Chapter 9 - THE PROTECTOR'S RAGE
The quiet suburban street erupted into chaos.
Moretti’s thugs fired wildly, but Vincent’s tactical team moved with lethal, military precision. Within sixty seconds, three of the attackers were neutralized on the lawn, while Frank tackled the lead thug to the ground, disarming him instantly.
Vincent walked calmly across the grass, his eyes fixed on the remaining attacker.
He didn't fire. He stepped up, grabbed the man by his neck, and slammed him face-first onto the hood of the steaming SUV.
"Who sent you?" Vincent hissed, his voice dropping into a terrifying sub-zero growl.
"Moretti!" the thug choked out, screaming in pain. "Don Antonio! He wanted the girl to leverage your territory!"
Vincent’s grip tightened until the man’s eyes rolled back.
"Tell Antonio," Vincent whispered coldly into the man's ear, "that he made the last mistake of his life."
Vincent shoved the thug away, turning instantly toward the porch.
Elena was standing near the door, shaking violently, her hands clutched over her chest. The sight of the gunfire, the blood, and the raw violence had brought back every terror of her past.
Vincent dropped his weapon into Frank’s hands and ran up the porch stairs.
"Elena!" he called out, his voice laced with frantic worry. "Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"
Elena looked at him—looked at the blood on his coat, the fury in his eyes, and the terrifying power he commanded. But as he reached out toward her, his hands were trembling with fear—not fear for himself, but fear that he had let her be hurt.
"Vincent..." she whispered, throwing herself into his arms.
May you like
Vincent pulled her tight against his chest, burying his face in her golden blonde hair, breathing in the scent of rain and sweet soap.
"I've got you," Vincent vowed raspy, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the universe. "I will burn this whole city to the ground before I let anyone lay a finger on you again."
