Chapter 5 - Blood on the Marble
The emergency red backup lights sputtered to life, bathing the vast penthouse in a sinister, bloody glow.
“Dominic!” Gabriel roared, pulling a modified Glock 19 from his holster with fluid, lethal grace.
The internal comms crackled with static, followed by the frantic voice of a guard stationed at the private elevator lobby: *“Boss! Breached! They cut the main transformers on the fourth floor! Elevator doors are being forced— Moretti’s hitters—!”*
Two rapid gunshots echoed through the speaker, followed by dead silence.
Lily began to shriek, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that tore through the penthouse.
“Claire!” Gabriel barked, his voice slicing through the chaos. “The panic room. Master bedroom closet. Third panel behind the suits. Go! Now!”
Claire didn't hesitate. She scooped Lily into her arms, pressing the child’s face into her shoulder, and bolted toward the master bedroom.
Behind her, the heavy glass doors of the penthouse foyer shattered with an explosive crash.
Submachine gun fire tore through the air, chewing through million-dollar modern art, ripping through plaster, and sending clouds of white dust billowing down the hallway.
Claire stumbled into the master bedroom. She dragged Lily toward the walk-in closet, her hands frantically shoving aside racks of custom charcoal suits until she felt the cold steel seam of the hidden door.
She pressed her thumb against the concealed biometric panel.
*Access Denied. System Offline.*
“No, no, no!” Claire cried, slamming her palm against the panel. The power cut had locked the electronic release.
Footsteps heavy combat boots were sprinting down the corridor toward the master suite.
“Check the bedrooms!” a guttural voice shouted in Italian-accented English. “Moretti wants the girl dead! Leave no witnesses!”
Claire looked around frantically. There was nowhere to run. The room was vast, luxurious, and completely exposed.
Except for the heavy antique armoire in the corner.
Claire lunged toward it, shoved Lily inside between two heavy wool overcoats, and pulled the door shut until it was cracked just an inch.
“Lily, listen to me,” Claire whispered, her voice fierce and steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “Stay here. Do not make a sound. Do not sing. Do not cry. I am going to lead them away.”
“Claire, no!” Lily sobbed, reaching out with her tiny hands.
“I will come back for you,” Claire promised. “I swear to you on my mother’s life, I will come back.”
Claire pushed the armoire door shut, grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table, and ripped the cord from the wall.
She stepped out into the open master bedroom just as the first armed man in tactical gear cleared the doorway.
He was massive, wearing a balaclava, carrying an MP5. He saw Claire and raised the barrel.
Claire didn't scream. With all the strength in her body, she hurled the heavy brass lamp straight at his face.
The lamp struck his visor with a loud crack, throwing his aim off. The burst of gunfire chewed into the ceiling, raining plaster and sparks down upon them. Claire lunged forward, tackling his knees with reckless abandon.
They both crashed to the marble floor.
The man cursed, his heavy fist smashing into Claire’s cheekbone. Pain exploded behind her eyes; the taste of copper filled her mouth. He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her down, his gloved fingers crushing her windpipe.
“Stupid whore,” he snarled, raising his sidearm to her forehead.
A deafening gunshot blew the side of his head apart.
Blood and bone splattered across Claire’s chest. The man went limp, his massive weight crushing her ribs as he collapsed.
Gabriel stood in the doorway.
He was covered in gray drywall dust, his suit jacket torn, a smear of blood across his left cheek. His eyes were wild, blazing with the fury of an ancient god. Behind him, Dominic was systematically clearing the hallway, firing controlled pairs into the fallen bodies.
Gabriel dropped to his knees, shoved the dead hitman off Claire with one violent thrust, and hauled her into his arms.
“Claire,” Gabriel rasped, his hands checking her neck, her face, her ribs. “Claire, look at me. Are you hit?”
“Lily...” Claire choked out, coughing blood from her bruised throat. She pointed a trembling finger toward the armoire. “In the... closet...”
Gabriel turned. He threw the armoire doors open.
Lily sat curled into a ball, shaking violently, her hands clamped over her ears.
When she saw Gabriel, she didn't shrink. She didn't look through him.
She looked at Claire, still gasping for air on the floor, and then at Gabriel.
“Daddy,” Lily cried out, the word tearing from her throat in a ragged, broken sob. “Daddy, save Claire!”
Gabriel’s breath hitched. For a fraction of a second, the mafia boss, the ruthless king of the harbor, shattered into pieces. A single, clear tear carved a path through the dust on his cheek.
He swept Lily into one arm, then reached down with his other arm, wrapping it around Claire’s waist, hauling her up against his chest so that both of them were held in the circle of his iron protection.
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“I have you,” Gabriel whispered fiercely into Lily’s hair, his eyes locked onto Claire’s battered, defiant face. “I have both of you. And whoever did this is going to bleed until this city runs red.”
***
