Chapter 4 - The Siege of Cold Spring Harbor"Lock down the interior shutters!" Dante barked into the receiver, slamming the phone down. "Get Marco and five men to the nursery now!"
He turned to Amara, pulling a sleek, dark 9mm pistol from his desk drawer and slapping two spare magazines onto the walnut wood before sliding the gun into her hands.
"You know how to use this," Dante said, his voice dropping into a calm, deadly rhythm. "I trained you myself."
Amara took the weapon without hesitation, checking the chamber and racking the slide with a clean, practiced clack. The terrified victim from five years ago was gone; in her place stood a mother ready to fight for her children's survival.
"Where are you going?" Amara demanded, grabbing his arm.
"To end this," Dante said, his dark eyes shining with lethal purpose. "Victor Moretti thinks he can attack my home because he has fifty mercenaries. He forgot who taught him how to fight in this city."
Downstairs, the heavy muffled sound of automatic gunfire began to rattle the thick stone walls of the mansion. The security lights outside flickered and died as the mercenaries cut the primary power lines, plunging the house into a dark, shadowy crimson illuminated only by the secondary emergency lamps.
Dante stepped out into the hallway, pulling a suppressed submachine gun from a concealed wall panel. Amara followed close behind him, her boots silent against the hardwood floor as they moved toward the north wing where the nursery was located.
Suddenly, a heavy window at the end of the corridor shattered in a shower of glass.
Three tactical mercenaries clad in black gear swung through the frame, landing rolling on the carpet, their automatic rifles raised to sweep the hall.
"Dominic! Clear!" the lead mercenary yelled into his radio.
Before the guard could raise his weapon, Dante stepped out of the alcove, firing a three-round burst from his submachine gun.
Pfft-pfft-pfft!
The lead mercenary collapsed to the floor. The second guard spun around, but Amara stepped up beside Dante, raising her pistol with both hands and firing two precise shots straight into the man's chest vest, throwing him off balance long enough for Dante to finish him with a bullet to the neck.
The third mercenary panicked, backing toward the broken window, but Dante closed the distance with terrifying speed, grabbing the man's tactical vest, slamming his head against the stone archway, and dropping his unconscious body onto the floor.
Dante turned to Amara, a faint, proud smirk touching his lips despite the chaos. "Your recoil control has improved."
"I had five years to practice in my head," Amara replied coolly, her eyes scanning the dark hallway.
Suddenly, the heavy iron radio on the fallen mercenary’s vest crackled to life. A sharp, mocking female voice rang out through the tiny speaker.
"Dante... darling..." Bianca’s voice sneered through the static. "Did you really think hiding in your fortress would save you? My father's men have surrounded the estate. And I am standing outside your iron gates with thirty barrels of industrial diesel."
Dante picked up the radio, depressing the talk button. "Bianca. You made a mistake coming here."
"No, Dante, you made a mistake when you chose that gutter-rat over me!" Bianca screeched, her voice laced with unhinged, venomous hatred. "If I can't have the Duca empire, I'm going to burn it to the ground with your bastard children inside! Surrender Amara and the twins in five minutes, or I turn this estate into an inferno!"
Dante looked down the corridor toward the nursery door, where his security chief Marco was standing guard with two heavily armed soldiers.
"Marco," Dante said into his earpiece. "Is there a way out through the old wine cellar tunnels?"
"The tunnel leads to the boathouse on the Sound, boss," Marco replied over the comms. "It's clear, but the lake water is high because of the storm. We can get the kids onto the armored launch, but we'll be exposed once we hit open water."
Dante looked at Amara. "Take the twins and go to the boathouse with Marco. Get them on the boat."
"What about you?" Amara demanded, her eyes wide with fierce concern.
"I'm going to the front gate," Dante said, his jaw locked in iron resolve. "Bianca wants a war. I'm going to give her a execution."
"No! Dante, it's a trap!" Amara grabbed his sweater, pulling him close. "Victor wants you isolated! If you step out those front doors alone, they'll tear you apart!"
Dante reached up, taking her face in both of his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.
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"They won't tear me apart, Amara," Dante whispered, his voice filled with an absolute, terrifying power. "Because for five years I fought for nothing. Tonight, I am fighting for my wife and my children. Now go!"
He kissed her hard on the lips—a deep, fierce, desperate kiss that tasted of rain, fire, and promises—before pushing her toward the nursery and sprinting down the grand staircase into the dark, burning foyer below.
