Chapter 6 - The Stand at the Estate
The sound of weapons being drawn echoed through the foyer like a chorus of snapping twigs.
Four of Lorenzo Moretti’s bodyguards pulled dark handguns from inside their leather jackets, pointing them directly at Damon Cain.
Damon didn't even blink. He didn't reach for a weapon. He stood in the center of the marble floor, his hands resting in his pockets, looking at Lorenzo as if the man were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"You brought four guns into my home, Lorenzo," Damon said, his voice dangerously soft. "Did you bother to check how many are pointed at you right now?"
Lorenzo’s smile flickered.
Suddenly, from the upper balconies, the shadows moved. Six of Damon’s elite tactical guards, dressed in black gear with heavy automatic rifles, stepped into view along the mahogany railings above. Red laser sights danced across the chests of Lorenzo’s bodyguards.
Down on the floor, Marco stepped out from behind a pillar, holding a heavy shotgun leveled directly at Lorenzo’s forehead.
"You're outgunned, Lorenzo," Marco growled. "One twitch and you're painted on the wall."
Lorenzo’s bodyguards went rigid, their hands trembling on their weapons as they realized they had walked directly into a kill zone.
Lorenzo’s thin lips twitched. He looked up at the red laser dots on his expensive coat, then back at Damon.
"You always were a arrogant bastard, Cain," Lorenzo hissed, slowly raising his hands in fake surrender. "You think these walls protect you? You think you're safe in this fortress?"
"I'm not protecting myself from you, Lorenzo," Damon said, taking a step forward until he was inches from the silver-haired mob boss. "I'm protecting you from what I will do to you if you ever cross my gates again. Drop your weapons."
The four bodyguards hesitated, looking at Lorenzo.
"Drop them!" Lorenzo barked, his face dark with embarrassment.
The heavy handguns clattered against the marble floor.
"Kick them toward Marco," Damon ordered.
The men kicked the guns across the floor. Marco's team quickly swept them up.
"Now get out," Damon said, turning his back on Lorenzo as if the man were completely invisible. "If I see your cars on my road again, there won't be a conversation."
Lorenzo glared at Damon's back, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. He adjusted his coat, turned around, and marched out the front doors, his disgraced bodyguards following closely behind. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them.
Upstairs, Rosa heard the front doors slam. She let out a breath she felt like she had been holding for an hour, dropping to her knees against the study door.
A minute later, two soft knocks sounded against the wood.
"Rosa," Damon’s voice came through. "It's clear. You can open the door."
Rosa unlocked the heavy brass latch and pulled the door open.
Damon was standing in the hallway. His suit jacket was slightly wrinkled, but otherwise, he looked completely composed.
Behind Rosa, Sophia ran out of the room, her small feet thumping against the carpet. She ran right past her mother and threw her arms around Damon’s leg, hugging his knee tight.
"Mr. Cain! Did you chase the bad men away?" Sophia asked excitedly.
Damon looked down at the tiny girl holding onto his leg. The cold, lethal intensity that had filled his eyes seconds ago melted away completely.
He reached down, gently patting her head. "Yes, Sophia. The bad men are gone."
"Did Zeus scare them?"
"Zeus was very brave," Damon agreed softly. He looked up at Rosa, his expression turning serious. "Rosa. I want you and Sophia to stay at the estate tonight. I'm having Marco set up the guest suite in the west wing for you."
Rosa blinked. "Mr. Cain... we can go home. We don't want to intrude—"
"Lorenzo Moretti is a desperate rat," Damon interrupted firmly. "He knows who you are now. My men will guard your apartment downtown, but until I resolve this situation permanently, you and your daughter are safest behind my walls. You stay here."
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Rosa looked at her daughter, then at the powerful man standing before her. She saw no threat in his eyes—only a fierce, protective instinct that made her feel safer than she ever had in her life.
"Okay," Rosa whispered. "Thank you, Mr. Cain."
