Chapter 6 - THE COURTYARD TRAP
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" Carlo's voice boomed over the estate’s external PA system, echoing off the stone walls. "YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY ARMED SECURITY! LAY ON THE GROUND IMMEDIATELY!"
The leader of the Ferretti hit team didn't surrender. "FIRE!" he screamed.
Muzzle flashes erupted in the bright courtyard as the six mercenaries opened fire toward the upper balconies, the sound of suppressed automatic gunfire rattling like heavy hail against the reinforced safety glass.
"COVER!" Mia yelled, grabbing Matteo by the vest and yanking him flat against the stone balustrade just as a spray of bullets chipped the masonry above their heads.
Dust and stone splinters rained down on them.
Mia didn't panic. She rolled onto her back, clicked her rifle off safety, and leaned around the stone pillar.
Cc-thwip! Cc-thwip!
Her rifle barked twice. Two precise shots caught the lead mercenary in his shoulder plates, knocking him flat onto the wet stone, his submachine gun skittering across the courtyard.
"Return fire!" Carlo shouted over the comms as DeLuca guards positioned on the lower patio began firing flash-bang grenades into the courtyard center.
BANG! BANG!
Disorienting white light and concussive shockwaves tore through the trapped hit squad. Two more mercenaries dropped to their knees, clutching their ears in agony as their vision went completely white.
However, the remaining three mercenaries realized they were trapped in a box and made a desperate play. The largest of them pulled a heavy breaching charge from his tactical vest and ran straight toward the glass doors of the East Wing library—the exact door leading into the main mansion where Lorenzo was located.
"He's got a charge!" Matteo shouted, aiming his pistol over the balcony rail, but the angle was too steep. "If he sets that off against the glass, the structural shock will blow out the entire lower floor!"
Mia didn't hesitate. She threw her heavy sniper rifle aside, grabbed the iron railing of the second-floor balcony, and vaulted straight over the edge.
"MIA, NO!" Matteo screamed.
She dropped fifteen feet through the cold rain, landing in a low roll on the wet courtyard flagstones. Pain flared through her ankle as she hit the ground hard—her signature awkward balance striking again—but the momentum carried her forward.
She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the ankle pain, and sprinted straight toward the mercenary holding the explosive charge.
The mercenary turned just as Mia reached him. He swung the butt of his submachine gun at her head with lethal force.
Mia dropped beneath the blow, sliding across the wet flagstones like a baseball player hitting home plate. She swept her right leg around with maximum force, catching the man behind his knees.
He went down hard, slamming his head against the stone fountain step. The breaching charge fell from his hand, rolling harmlessly into the water basin.
May you like
Mia scrambled up, drew her sidearm, and pressed the barrel directly against the center of his forehead.
"Move," Mia panted, her hair soaked with rain, "and I promise you won't like the result."
