Chapter 7 - The Siege of the Estate
The automated security sirens began to wail three minutes later, slicing through the quiet Vermont night with a deafening, rhythmic shriek.
Red emergency strobes flashed along the cornices of the mansion, painting the grand halls in alternating bands of blood-red and stark white.
"Marco, get the kids to the panic room in the east wing," Dominic ordered, his voice cutting through the noise like a razor. He had already drawn his firearm—a customized SIG Sauer P226—and stood over Evelyn, who was pinned to the floor beneath Marco’s heavy knee.
"Boss, the perimeter sensors are tripping all over the west gate," Marco reported, cuffing Evelyn with heavy zip-ties extracted from his belt. "It’s not local police. It’s Vance’s crew. Evelyn must have sent a dead-man switch signal to the rival faction in Boston."
"Vance," Dominic’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, unadulterated ice. "He’s been trying to muscle into our shipping routes for two years."
"They're breaching the main courtyard!" Mia shouted, running out from the hallway with her dark curls flying, clutching her gray rabbit like a shield. She didn't look terrified; she looked fiercely protective. "Mama, the bad men are breaking the glass!"
Elena scooped Mia up in one arm, while using her free hand to pull Leo—still wearing the bone-conduction headset—close to her side. "Dominic, we can't stay here. The front windows are glass. They'll turn this room into a shooting gallery."
"Follow me," Dominic commanded. He grabbed Leo’s hand, his other arm holding his firearm steady as he led them out of the study and down the service corridor toward the back kitchens.
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the front foyer—heavy, violent impacts followed by the harsh, metallic clatter of assault rifles being racked. Evelyn’s network had been deep, and the men breaching the gates weren't street thugs; they were professional enforcers sent to wipe out the Moretti bloodline in a single, coordinated strike.
"Down!" Dominic yelled, shoving Elena and the children behind a massive stainless-steel commercial island in the kitchen as a burst of automatic gunfire chewed through the dining room french doors, sending crystal glassware and porcelain exploding across the floor.
"Marco!" Dominic shouted over the din.
"Got the security override!" Marco roared from the pantry doorway, his own weapon barking twice as a shadow in tactical gear rounded the corner. The intruder dropped instantly, tumbling hard against the pantry shelves. "Boss, the safe room tunnel! It’s our only way out before they blow the generators!"
"Move!" Dominic fired three rapid shots down the hallway, driving back a wave of black-clad gunmen trying to push through the kitchen archway. "Elena, take Leo! Keep him low!"
Elena grabbed Leo’s hand. The boy was shaking, his eyes wide behind the bone-conduction headset as the deafening roar of gunfire battered his newly awakened ears. But instead of retreating into the silent shell of his past, Leo squeezed Elena’s fingers back with surprising strength.
"I can hear them, Mama," Leo whispered, his voice shaking. "They're coming from the stairs."
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"I know, sweetie, keep running!" Elena urged, pushing him toward Marco, who was holding open a heavy iron door disguised as a flour bin in the walk-in pantry.
They scrambled down into the damp, concrete-lined escape tunnel just as a heavy explosion rocked the upper floors of the mansion, shaking dust and debris down from the ceiling like winter snow.
