Chapter 8 - Blood in the Snow
Inside the panic room, the monitors mounted on the wall flickered to life, broadcasting live feeds from the security cameras placed throughout the penthouse.
Clara held Leo tightly against her chest, her hands trembling as she watched the screens.
Four masked men clad in tactical black gear and armed with assault rifles had made it past the elevator lobby and were now swarming the main living room. They were looking for the safe, the ledgers, and above all else—the boy.
Suddenly, the screen showed Rico stepping out from the corridor near the master bedroom. He wasn't hiding. He was walking directly toward them with chilling, methodical calm.
“Dad!” Leo screamed at the monitor, thrashing in Clara’s arms. “Daddy, no!”
Clara clamped her hand gently over Leo’s mouth to keep him quiet, her own breath hitching in her throat as she watched the tactical display.
The shootout was over almost as quickly as it began.
Rico moved like a ghost through the dark apartment, utilizing every shadow and angle. Two of the intruders went down before they even realized where the shots were coming from. The third tried to fire back, but Rico’s return fire shattered his shoulder, dropping him instantly to the marble floor.
The fourth man—the leader of the hit squad—panicked, retreating toward the kitchen balcony.
Rico stepped out into the open, his weapon leveled dead at the man’s chest.
“Tell Don Rossi,” Rico’s voice echoed through the hallway speakers, cold enough to freeze blood, “that if he ever sends rats into my house again, I won't just kill his soldiers. I’ll burn his entire estate to the ground.”
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The intruder dropped his weapon, raised his hands, and threw himself over the balcony railing toward the fire escape stairs, fleeing into the stormy night.
Silence descended upon the penthouse once more, broken only by the distant wail of police sirens echoing up from the Brooklyn streets below.
