Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE BEGINS
The war with the Chicago syndicate erupted with terrifying speed.
Within forty-eight hours of the warehouse bombing, two of Vincent’s shipping docks were seized, three of his street captains were ambushed in Manhattan, and the streets of New York became a dangerous battleground.
Vincent worked around the clock from his private office, turning the Russo estate into a heavily fortified war room. Armed guards patrolled the iron fences every twenty feet, security cameras were doubled, and non-essential staff were sent home with full pay.
Only Nora remained in the east wing.
She refused to leave Camila. As the tension outside grew thicker, Camila’s mental state became more fragile, sensing the distress in the house. Nora stayed by her side twelve hours a day, keeping the radio playing, reading her old love letters from Thomas, and ensuring she remained calm while armed men walked past her windows.
On a dark Tuesday night, three weeks into the conflict, the estate was plunged into total darkness.
Click.
The chandeliers in the hallway extinguished instantly. The hum of the backup generators failed seconds later.
Silence, heavy and absolute, settled over the mansion.
Nora stood in Camila’s bedroom, holding a silver tray with a pitcher of water.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“Nora?” Camila asked from her bed, her voice trembling in the dark. “Why did the lights go out? Is Thomas coming home?”
“Stay right there, Camila,” Nora whispered, setting the tray down silently on the nightstand. “Don't move.”
From the hallway outside, the muffled sound of suppressed gunfire echoed through the heavy walls.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
Shouts followed, accompanied by the heavy thud of bodies hitting the hardwood floor.
Gallow’s men had breached the perimeter.
Nora’s training as a trauma worker kicked in. She didn't freeze. She moved quickly to the heavy mahogany door, sliding the iron deadbolt into place just as heavy footsteps rushed down the corridor.
“Check the rooms!” a harsh voice barked in the hallway. “Gallow wants the old woman! Find her!”
Nora’s blood turned to ice.
They weren't just attacking the estate; they were coming specifically to take Camila as leverage to force Vincent to surrender his territory.
Nora looked around the darkened bedroom. There was only one door out, and no fire escape from the second-story window.
She ran to the bedside, grabbed Camila by her shoulders, and guided her gently toward the walk-in closet behind the heavy velvet curtains.
“Listen to me, Camila,” Nora whispered, her voice tight with fierce authority. “You need to get inside this closet. Sit in the back behind the coats. Do not make a single sound. Do you understand me? No matter what you hear.”
Camila looked at her with wide, frightened eyes. For a second, clarity returned to her aged face. “Nora... they’re going to hurt you.”
“No, they’re not,” Nora lied, forcing a smile in the dark. “I’m very clumsy, remember? I always break things.”
She pushed Camila gently into the closet, pulling the heavy coats over her frail frame, and shut the door silently.
A heavy blow struck the bedroom door from the outside.
BANG!
The wood groaned beneath the impact.
Nora looked around for a weapon. There were no guns, no knives.
Her eyes landed on a heavy brass desk lamp sitting on the corner table. She grabbed the cord, yanked the plug from the wall, and lifted the heavy metal base into her hands, standing three feet from the entrance.
BANG!
The lock shattered.
The oak door burst open, crashing against the wall.
A tall, heavily armed man in a tactical vest stepped into the room, a flashlight mounted on his rifle cutting through the darkness, illuminating Nora standing in the center of the room.
“Where is she?” the soldier growled, raising his weapon toward her chest. “Where’s the old bat?”
Nora didn't answer.
She swung the heavy brass lamp with every ounce of strength in her body, aiming directly at the flashlight beam.
The lamp struck the rifle barrel, knocking the shot off course as a round tore into the ceiling plaster above her head.
The soldier swore loudly, staggering back, but he recovered quickly, swinging his heavy gloved fist into Nora’s shoulder.
The force of the blow sent her crashing against the wall. Her head struck the corner of a painting frame, sending a blinding flash of pain through her vision.
She fell to her knees on the carpet, blood dripping warm down the side of her temple.
The soldier stepped over her, raising his boot to stamp down on her ribs. “You stupid little bitch—”
A shadow cut through the doorway behind him like a specter of death.
Vincent.
He didn't shoot. He moved with a terrifying, fluid speed born of absolute fury.
Vincent grabbed the soldier by his tactical vest from behind, driving a heavy steel combat knife directly through the man’s throat before he could utter a single sound.
Blood sprayed across the wallpaper as Vincent yanked the blade clear and slammed the dying soldier onto the floor.
Vincent dropped to his knees beside Nora, his hands trembling as he reached out to cup her bleeding face.
His custom suit was covered in dust and gunpowder smoke, his eyes wide with an unholy terror she had never seen in him before.
“Nora!” Vincent gasped, his voice raw, frantic, shaking. “Nora, look at me! Look at me!”
Nora blinked through the pain, focusing on his dark, frantic eyes.
“Camila...” she choked out, pointing a trembling hand toward the closet. “She’s... she’s in the closet. She’s safe.”
Vincent looked toward the closet door, then looked back at the blood running down Nora’s cheek.
May you like
He pulled her tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around her like a vice, burying his face into her hair as a deep, shuddering breath escaped his throat.
“You protected her again,” Vincent sobbed quietly into her neck, abandoning every shred of his ruthless mob persona. “God help me, Nora... you protected my family again.”
