Chapter 5 - The Siege of Point Blackwood
The removal of the Moretti family from the coastal alliance did not bring peace; it ignited an open war.
By Friday evening, Oakhaven Harbor was under lockdown. The Moretti Syndicate, furious at the humiliation of Victoria and the exposure of their murder plot, mobilized their entire northern fleet. Mercenaries and rogue dock workers hired by Moretti had cut the power lines leading to Blackwood Manor, jammed cellular transmissions along the coast, and set fire to three of Trevino's commercial warehouses in the lower harbor.
The Ice King’s fortress was under siege.
Inside the dark, candlelit library of Blackwood Manor, Trevino stood behind his mahogany desk, reviewing tactical maps of the estate with Marcus and his senior lieutenants. Emergency generators hummed faintly in the basement, casting flickering yellow light across the heavy stone walls.
"They've blocked the main road up the cliff," Marcus reported, his assault rifle slung across his chest. "Two armed boats are sitting half a mile offshore, watching our private cove. Moretti is playing his last card, boss. He knows if he doesn't kill you tonight, the federal warrants will drop by Monday."
Trevino didn't look worried. He checked the magazine of a sleek black pistol, racked the slide with a sharp metallic CLACK, and holstered it beneath his coat.
"He is desperate," Trevino said coldly. "Desperate men make sloppy moves. Let them come up the cliff path. We choke them at the iron gates."
The door of the library opened, and Norma stepped inside.
She was wearing her heavy wool sweater, thick boots, and had a leather belt strapped around her waist. She held Barnaby under her arm, and in her right hand, she carried her old iron poker from the cottage.
Trevino looked up, his brow furrowing. "Norma. I told you to stay in the secure panic room in the basement with your father."
"My father is safe in the panic room, Joseph," Norma said firmly, stepping up to the desk. "And Barnaby is going in there with him. But I'm not staying locked in a cell while men try to burn down this house."
Trevino stared at her in disbelief. "Norma, this isn't a dock fight. These are trained mercenaries with automatic weapons. You are going to the basement."
"I know these cliffs better than any man in your security detail, Joseph!" Norma argued, her eyes flashing like steel. "I've climbed these rocks since I was eight years old! If Moretti's men are coming up from the water, they won't use the cliff path—it's too exposed! They're going to use the old smuggler's cave at the base of the cove—the one that leads straight into the boathouse behind the east wing!"
Marcus stopped adjusting his gear, looking at Trevino. "Boss... she's right. The smuggler's cave is an old blind spot. If they hit us from the boathouse, they'll be inside the perimeter before the front gates even breach."
Trevino looked at Norma. The stubbornness in her eyes was the exact same stubbornness he had seen when she refused his hundred-thousand-dollar check on the freezing sand.
"You show Marcus the cave entrance," Trevino commanded, his voice dark and absolute. "And then you retreat to the basement. Do you understand me? If anything happens to you, Norma... there won't be enough left of Moretti's syndicate to bury."
Norma looked into his grey eyes, seeing the desperate, fierce protection burning behind them. She nodded slowly. "Deal."
Ten minutes later, the assault began.
A loud explosion rocked the front gates of the estate, sending a plume of fire into the night sky! Automatic gunfire erupted along the stone walls as Trevino’s security guards engaged the main force of Moretti’s men on the driveway.
Meanwhile, in the pitch-black darkness of the lower cove, three rubber assault boats glided silently onto the pebbled beach beneath the boathouse.
Dozens of armed men in dark tactical gear stepped onto the shore, led by Don Vito Moretti himself—a heavy, brutal man with a scarred face, desperate to avenge his daughter and claim the harbor for himself.
"Move fast!" Vito hissed to his men. "Find Trevino, take his head, and burn the estate to the ground!"
They rushed toward the dark opening of the boathouse—unaware that standing on the stone ledge twenty feet above the cave entrance, hidden in the shadows of the coastal rocks, were Marcus, four elite guards, and Norma.
"Now!" Marcus barked.
Heavy floodlights mounted on the boathouse roof suddenly erupted into blinding white light, illuminating the cove!
"Ambush!" one of Moretti's men screamed.
Trevino’s guards opened fire from the high ground! The narrow beach erupted into violent chaos—muzzle flashes strobing against the dark Atlantic, bullets tearing through the gravel, screams echoing off the wet stone walls.
Moretti’s men fought back frantically, firing wild bursts up toward the ledge. A bullet struck the rock near Norma's head, sending sharp stone splinters flying into the air!
"Get down, Norma!" Marcus yelled, firing his rifle down into the fray.
Norma crouched behind a heavy granite boulder, her heart hammering violently. Through the smoke and muzzle flashes, she saw Don Vito Moretti crawling out of the surf, holding a heavy revolver, sneaking toward the narrow wooden stairs that led straight up to the east wing conservatory—the very stairs that led into the house where Trevino was coordinating the defense!
"He's going around!" Norma shouted over the deafening gunfire, but Marcus was pinned down by two heavy machine-gunners near the boathouse door.
Norma didn't hesitate.
She grabbed her heavy iron poker, slipped through the shadows behind the rock ledges, and sprinted up the narrow coastal path, cutting through the dark ivy to intercept Moretti before he reached the upper terrace!
The wind roared off the ocean, rain lashing against her face as she reached the top of the cliff.
Don Vito Moretti burst through the wooden gate onto the terrace, gasping for air, raising his revolver as he aimed for the glass doors of the library where Joseph Trevino stood framed against the firelight!
"Trevino!" Moretti roared, raising his gun to shoot Trevino through the glass!
"HEY!" Norma screamed from the shadows!
Moretti turned his head in shock—just in time to see Norma Smith swing the heavy iron poker with every ounce of strength, rage, and coastal power in her body!
CRACK!
The iron bar struck Moretti’s right wrist with sickening force! His revolver shattered against the stone floor, flying off the edge of the cliff into the dark sea below!
Moretti let out a howl of agonizing pain, stumbling backward, clutching his broken wrist. He looked at the girl standing before him—drenched in rain, eyes blazing like molten gold, holding the iron bar like an executioner.
"You... you little dock bitch!" Moretti growled, drawing a heavy hunting knife with his left hand, lunging toward her!
Norma didn't back away. She remembered what Trevino had told her in the cottage: You leave your entire left side exposed.
Norma feinted to the left, letting Moretti’s knife slash empty air, then pivoted on her heel and drove the butt of the iron poker straight into Moretti’s solar plexus!
The heavy man gasped, all the air leaving his lungs in a pathetic wheeze. He dropped to his knees on the wet terrace floor, clutching his stomach.
Before he could move, a dark shadow fell over him.
Joseph Trevino stepped out onto the terrace.
Without a word, Trevino brought the heavy steel frame of his custom pistol down against the back of Moretti’s head.
Moretti collapsed face-down onto the wet stone, unconscious.
Silence fell over the terrace. The gunfire down at the boathouse was dying out, replaced by the shouts of Trevino's men securing the surviving mercenaries.
Trevino stood on the rain-slick terrace, holding his smoking gun, his cashmere coat soaked through. He looked at Moretti's unconscious body, then looked up at Norma.
Norma stood there, holding the iron poker, her chest heaving, rain streaming down her face, her eyes fierce and unbroken.
Trevino dropped his gun onto the stone floor.
He took three fast strides across the terrace, grabbed Norma by the waist, pulled her slender body flush against his chest, and buried his face in the crook of her neck, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.
Norma dropped the iron poker. It clattered uselessly against the stone.
She wrapped her arms around Trevino's neck, clinging to him as the storm roared around them, feeling the violent, erratic thudding of his heart against her ribs.
"I told you," Trevino whispered into her wet hair, his voice rough, shaking with an emotion he could no longer hide. "I told you to stay in the basement."
"And I told you," Norma choked out, a fierce, beautiful laugh bubbling up from her throat, "I don't leave my home undefended."
Trevino pulled back just enough to look into her face. He cupped her cheeks in his large, warm hands, his slate-grey eyes burning with a brilliant, consuming fire.
"You are insane, Norma Smith," Trevino whispered.
"I learned from the best, Joseph," she replied.
May you like
Trevino leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was wild, passionate, and fierce—a collision of salt water, rain, fire, and two souls that had found their match in the middle of a war. The Ice King melted completely under the heat of the fisherman's daughter, locking them together as the dark clouds above Oakhaven finally began to break.
