Chapter 7 - Storm over the Haven
The peaceful sanctuary we had built inside the mansion did not go unnoticed by our enemies.
When Victor Moretti realized that Dr. Vance had disappeared and that Dominic was no longer responding to his encrypted transmissions, he knew his secret infiltration had failed. A man like Moretti—a ruthless syndicate boss backed into a corner—didn't retreat. He attacked.
It happened on a midnight late in November.
A ferocious winter gale was howling off the Atlantic, driving thick rain sheets against the ocean cliffs of my estate. The power grid across the coastal county failed at 1:15 AM, plunging the mansion into total darkness before the emergency backup generators hummed to life.
In my office, the red warning lights began flashing on my private console.
Perimeter breach. Sector 3. Sector 4.
I pulled my tactical vest over my dark sweater, ratcheting the straps tight, and grabbed my silenced carbine from the gun safe behind my desk. I sprinted down the corridor to the West Wing.
I didn't knock on Matteo’s door; I threw it open. Clara was already awake, standing in front of Matteo’s wheelchair in her dark clothes, holding a heavy brass fire poker from the hearth with a fierce, unwavering grip.
“They’re here,” I said, stepping into the room.
“How many?” Clara asked, her voice steady despite the siren echoing faintly down the hallways.
“At least twelve heavily armed men,” I replied, checking the magazine of my weapon. “They cut the main power lines at the gate and bypassed the outer guards using Dominic’s old security codes.”
Matteo woke up, rubbing his eyes, frightened by the flashing red emergency lights. “Daddy? What’s happening?”
I walked over to his chair, kneeling down so I was eye-level with him. “Matteo, listen to me. We’re going to play a game. Do you remember the hidden room behind the bookcase where we hide the Christmas presents?”
Matteo nodded quickly.
“You and Clara are going into that room right now,” I instructed, looking at Clara with intense urgency. “It’s reinforced with four inches of steel plating. It has its own air supply and an encrypted satellite comms link. Once you’re inside, you lock it from the internal keypad. You don't open it for anyone except me. Do you understand?”
Clara stepped forward, grabbing my arm. Her grip was tight, her dark eyes searching mine in the dim red light. “Vincent... don't do this alone. You have loyal guards left. Fall back into the panic room with us.”
“If I fall back, they’ll surround us and blow the vault doors with thermite charges,” I said, reaching up to gently lay my palm against her cheek. “I built this house to be a fortress, Clara. But tonight, I’m turning it into their graveyard. I have to end this so my son can walk out into the sun without fear.”
Clara swallowed hard. She leaned in, her lips pressing against my cheek in a quick, fierce kiss that tasted of rain and electricity.
“Come back to us,” she whispered. “Don't you dare leave us behind.”
“Never,” I swore.
May you like
I helped her push Matteo’s wheelchair through the concealed door behind the library shelves. I watched Clara lock the heavy steel deadbolts from the inside, ensuring my son was completely safe.
Then, I turned around, snapped the safety off my rifle, and stepped into the dark, rain-soaked hallways of my home to face the storm.
