Chapter 14 - Iron and Motherhood
The second operative lunged at me, his combat knife flashing in the chandelier light. I dropped the shotgun as his massive bulk slammed into me, knocking the wind from my lungs. We crashed into the antique mahogany buffet, china crashing down in a deafening rain of porcelain and crystal.
The man pinned my arms, his knife descending toward my throat with terrifying force. "Stupid b***h," he grunted, spit landing on my cheek.
I looked into his eyes—the same dead, ruthless gaze as the thugs who had terrorized my diner. But I was no longer the defenseless waitress waiting for a miracle. Silas had made me the queen of the harbor, and a mother defending her cub knows no fear.
I jammed my thumbs directly into his eye sockets with every ounce of strength in my body. He screamed in blinding agony, his knife slipping from his grasp. With a savage twist, I grabbed a heavy silver candelabra from the shattered floor and struck his temple with a sickening crunch. He collapsed limp across my torso.
I shoved his dead weight off me and scrambled up, bleeding from cuts on my arms, only to find the silver-haired leader standing over me with a silenced pistol leveled directly at my forehead.
"Impressive," he whispered coldly. "Vincent Moretti taught his sons well, but Silas took everything from us. Now, I take his heart."
His finger contracted on the trigger.
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Suddenly, the great oak double doors of the mansion blew off their hinges with the force of a hurricane.
A shadow moved faster than human eyes could track. Silas Marcone, drenched in harbor rain, eyes burning with demonic fury, hit the silver-haired man like a freight train. The impact sent both men crashing through the second set of French doors, rolling out onto the wet slate terrace above the raging ocean cliffs.
