Chapter 4 - The Storm Breaks
The first warning sign came in the form of a shattered window in the eastern wing.
It was 2:00 AM. Mave woke to the dull, rhythmic pop-pop-pop of suppressed gunfire echoing through the stone corridors of the manor.
Instinct honed from years of living on the knife-edge of poverty and survival took over. She rolled out of bed, grabbed the small, sleek firearm Leo had insisted she keep in her nightstand drawer, and slipped out into the hallway just as smoke began to billow from the stairwell.
“Leo!” she called out, keeping her voice low.
“Stay down, Mave!”
Leo emerged from his study down the hall, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a heavy automatic pistol in each hand. His face was carved from granite, his eyes dark with lethal intent.
“An extraction team?” she asked, rushing to his side behind a stone pillar as a volley of automatic fire chewed through the drywall overhead.
“Salvatore loyalists,” Leo hissed, gritting his teeth as a shallow graze on his shoulder began to bleed through his shirt. “They think because we’ve been quiet this month, we’re vulnerable. They want the core servers and they want my head.”
“Not tonight,” Mave said, a fierce, cold adrenaline surging through her veins.
Before Leo could stop her, she darted toward the security console terminal embedded in the wall behind the pillar. Her fingers flew across the emergency override keys, locking down the reinforced steel shutters across every door and window in the estate, trapping the intruders inside a concrete box.
“Smart girl,” Leo grunted, firing two rapid shots down the hallway and dropping an advancing gunman. “The armory is down the hall. Cover my flank!”
Side by side, the mafia boss and his unexpected bride fought their way through the smoky corridors, neutralizing the threat with ruthless efficiency. By the time the private security detail and Noah—Leo’s most trusted underboss—secured the grounds, seven intruders were unconscious on the marble floor, and the estate was safe.
In the aftermath, as medics patched up Leo’s shoulder in the master suite, Mave stood by the window holding a damp cloth, her hands steady despite the lingering shock of the firefight.
Leo caught her wrist as she went to dab the cut on his collarbone.
“You could have stayed in the safe room,” Leo said, his voice unusually quiet, freighted with a raw vulnerability she had never heard before. “You didn't have to pick up a gun.”
“You think I’m going to sit in a closet while people try to kill my husband?” Mave asked, her voice dropping into a fierce whisper. “You married a Sullivan, Leo. We know how to survive shipwrecks.”
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Leo pulled her down beside him on the edge of the mattress, wrapping his uninjured arm around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. He buried his face in her dark hair, inhaling her scent as if anchoring himself to reality.
“You didn't just survive the shipwreck, Mave,” he murmured against her ear. “You took the wheel.”
