Chapter 7 - The Marble Slaughter
The heavy 12-gauge automatic shotguns roared simultaneously, tearing through the front line of the breach team. Buckshot shredded armor, glass, and wood, dropping four hitmen instantly in a hail of blood and splintered marble.
"SUPPRESSING FIRE!" Moretti screamed, throwing himself behind a marble pillar as his men opened fire with automatic rifles.
A wall of lead tore through the foyer. Paintings shattered, statues disintegrated, and priceless antique furniture was chewed into dust. I rolled behind the base of the grand sweeping staircase, reloading both drum magazines with smooth, practiced speed.
Crack!
From the hidden loft high above, Grace’s sniper rifle barked. A hitman who was flanking my left position dropped dead instantly, a clean hole through his helmet.
Crack! Crack!
Two more men attempting to push toward the hallway were eliminated with surgical precision. Grace wasn't just good—she was lethal. Her father had trained her well.
"SNIPER IN THE RAFTERS!" one of Moretti's captains yelled, pointing toward the upper shadow balcony. "TAKEOUT THE LOFT!"
Three gunmen shifted their fire upward, plastering the wooden paneling around Grace's position with heavy rifle fire.
"Grace, stay down!" I yelled over the deafening noise of gunfire.
I slapped fresh drum mags into the shotguns, stepped out from behind the staircase, and unleashed hell upon the center of the room. The sheer volume of firepower blew apart the marble pillars, sending massive stone blocks crushing down onto the attackers.
Chaos consumed the foyer. Blood splattered across Isabelle’s oil portrait on the wall, red streaks running down the canvas like tears.
Outside, heavy engines roared. Lev and my secondary strike force arrived, crashing their armored vehicles through the rear of the Council's convoy, trapping them in the driveway. The sound of heavy machine-gun fire echoed from the courtyard as my men engaged the Council's outer guard line.
Moretti realized his trap had flipped on him. He was losing his men rapidly, caught in a deadly crossfire between my shotguns below, Grace’s sniper rifle above, and Lev’s squad pushing from the driveway.
Panicked, Moretti pulled a heavy fragmentation grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin with his teeth, and aimed it directly toward the hallway leading to the underground vault.
"IF I GO DOWN, WE ALL GO TO HELL!" Moretti shrieked.
My eyes went wide. If that grenade detonated near the vault's air filtration intake, the toxic fumes would kill my daughters inside.
I dropped the shotguns, drew my Colt .45, and sprinted straight into the open line of fire.
Bullets bit into my body—one tearing through my left shoulder, another grazing my ribs—but adrenaline blocked out the pain. I sprinted across the blood-slicked marble, leapt through the air, and tackled Moretti just as he tossed the grenade.
We crashed into the grand mahogany dining table, smashing it into kindling.
I grabbed Moretti's wrist, redirecting his throw. The grenade bounced across the floor and rolled under the massive cast-iron stove inside the nearby kitchen.
BOOM!
A localized explosion shook the floorboards, blowing out the kitchen windows and showering us with debris, but the heavy brick structure contained the blast away from the hallway.
Moretti pulled a combat knife, slashing wildly at my face. The blade cut deep across my jaw, drawing fresh blood. I growled, grabbed his throat with my bare hand, and slammed his head back against the stone floor once, twice, three times, until his grip went limp and the knife clattered away.
The gunfire in the foyer died down.
Breathing heavily, bleeding from three different wounds, I pulled myself up from the wreckage.
The foyer was a graveyard. Over twenty Council hitmen lay dead or dying across the shattered marble floor. Lev and his men stepped through the ruined front entrance, weapons lowered, securing the perimeter.
Grace lowered herself down from the loft rope, sprinting over to me, her face pale with concern. "Dominic! You're hit!"
"I'm fine," I grunted, pressing a hand against my bleeding shoulder. I looked around at the destruction of my home, then turned my eyes toward the corridor.
May you like
"Is it over?" Grace asked, her voice trembling slightly as she checked my wounds.
"Not yet," I murmured, staring at Moretti's bloodied form on the floor. "There's still one man left who gave the order."
