Chapter 10 - THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE
I didn't argue. In a combat situation—whether an ER trauma bay or a mafia compound under siege—hesitation was death.
I ran into the sitting room, scooped Emma into my arms before she could even ask what was happening, and met Mrs. Gable in the hallway. The elderly woman was already carrying a half-asleep Oliver, her face calm with the hardened experience of someone who had served the Vance family for forty years.
“This way, child,” Mrs. Gable said sharply, leading us down a hidden spiral staircase behind a pantry door.
We descended deep beneath the estate into a reinforced concrete basement lined with racks of vintage wine. At the far end of the cellar, behind a heavy oak barrel, Mrs. Gable punched a six-digit code into a concealed digital keypad.
A massive steel door hissed open, revealing a carpeted, brightly lit panic room equipped with leather couches, medical supplies, emergency monitors, and secure radio channels.
“Inside,” Mrs. Gable urged, pushing Emma and me through the doorway.
“Are you coming?” I asked her.
“My place is at the top of the stairs with a shotgun, dear,” the old woman said with a small, terrifying smile. “No one touches the children while I breathe.”
The heavy steel door slammed shut, sealing us in complete silence.
Emma clutched her unicorn blanket, sitting on the leather sofa next to Oliver, who had finally woken up completely, staring at the walls with wide, frightened eyes.
“Mommy?” Emma whispered, her voice trembling. “Is the scary man fighting outside?”
“His name is Julian, Emma,” I said softly, sitting between the two children and pulling them both into my arms. “And yes... he's fighting.”
Above us, the faint, muffled thuds of heavy gunfire began to echo through the concrete ceiling.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Automatic weapon fire. The shattering of heavy glass. The boom of tactical grenades breaching the upper floors.
Oliver buried his face in my side, crying quietly. “I want my Daddy...”
“Shh, Ollie,” I whispered, rubbing his back while holding Emma tight against my heart. “Your daddy is strong. He's very strong.”
Ten minutes passed. Ten agonizing minutes of darkness, muffled explosions, and the agonizing sound of a war being waged over our heads.
Then, the gunfire stopped.
Total, dead silence fell over the compound.
I held my breath, staring at the steel door of the panic room. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped beast. Was it Julian's men standing outside? Or had Marcone's assault team wiped them out?
A loud metallic clack echoed through the heavy door.
The digital lock beeped.
May you like
Beep. Beep. Beep. Green light.
The massive steel door slowly swung open.
