Chapter 6 - The Siege at Midnight
The quiet stillness of the Kanti mansion shattered instantly.
Daario didn't panic. He didn't shout. His face settled into a mask of pure, lethal granite that made Marcus look nervous.
"How many at the north gate?" Daario asked, standing up so sharply his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"At least forty, boss. They’ve got automatic weapons and Molotov cocktails. They think they can burn us out before local police respond—though we both know the local police won't answer our calls for another twenty minutes," Marcus reported, his hand resting anxiously on his sidearm.
Elena stood up from the table, pulling Matteo out of his high chair and clutching him tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide with terror. "What's happening? Are we under attack?"
Daario turned his attention to her. For a second, the cold mafia boss vanished, replaced by a man calculating variables with ruthless precision.
"Marcus," Daario barked. "Take Elena and the boy down to the basement panic room. Lock the steel bulkhead from the inside. Do not open it for anyone—not even me—unless you hear three slow knocks followed by two fast ones."
"Boss, you can't hold the north courtyard alone with just the four guards on duty," Marcus protested.
"Do it, Marcus! That is an order!" Daario thundered, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
Elena didn't hesitate. She grabbed Marisol, who had appeared breathless from the kitchen, and followed Marcus down a hidden spiral staircase behind the pantry. The air in the stairwell smelled of dust and cold stone, but Elena’s mind was racing with a terrifying clarity.
They reached the reinforced panic room—a windowless, steel-reinforced bunker stocked with medical supplies, communications gear, and water.
As the heavy steel door began to close, Elena looked out through the narrow gap.
She saw Daario standing in the grand foyer, pulling his suit jacket off and tossing it onto a chair, unbuttoning his cuffs, and drawing two heavy-caliber pistols from a wall display case behind the reception desk. He looked like an angel of death preparing for judgment day.
May you like
Clang.
The steel door locked shut, plunging them into a heavy, suffocating silence broken only by the distant, muffled boom of an explosion echoing from the north courtyard.
