Chapter 5 - The Snake at the Table
Daniel didn't flinch. He didn't jump up. He carefully, expertly shifted Leo’s weight, keeping the infant cradled securely against his bare chest with one arm while his other hand reached under his discarded shirt on the table, pulling out a sleek black handgun.
"How many?" Daniel asked, his voice dropping into that terrifying, sub-zero tone.
"Three armored SUVs," Marco reported, stepping into the room. "They cleared the outer security gate sixty seconds ago. They have heavy weaponry, boss."
I jumped to my feet, horror surging through my veins. "Tommy! They're coming for Tommy?!"
"They aren't coming for your brother, Clara," Daniel said, standing up smoothly. He handed Leo back to me with practiced, gentle care, ensuring the baby didn't wake as I pulled him against my chest. "They're coming to prove I'm weak because my wife died and my son was sick. They think the Russo empire is bleeding."
He looked at Marco, his eyes cold as death. "Lock down the east wing. If a single bullet enters this nursery, Marco, I will peel your skin off while you're still breathing."
"Understood, boss," Marco grunted, turning to activate the steel emergency shutters over the nursery windows. Heavy metal plates slammed down over the glass with a deafening bang, sealing us inside a dark, impenetrable vault.
Daniel turned back to me. He stepped close, grabbing the back of my neck with his bare hand, pulling me toward him until my forehead rested against his chest.
"Stay here," Daniel commanded into my hair. "Do not open this door for anyone except me or Marco."
"Daniel... please," I choked out, my fingers clutching his bare waist. "My brother..."
"Your brother is in the reinforced basement," Daniel said, his thumb tracing the nape of my neck. "He's safer down there than anywhere in Chicago right now. Keep my son quiet, Clara. I'll handle the rest."
He pulled back, picked up his shirt, racked the slide of his gun with a sharp clack, and stepped out into the corridor, locking the heavy steel door behind him.
The nursery was dead quiet save for the soft hum of the air filters.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.
Then the house erupted into war.
Muffled thuds of automatic rifle fire echoed through the thick concrete walls. The floor beneath my feet vibrated from explosions occurring on the lower levels.
Leo twitched against my chest, starting to cry.
"Shh, shh, I'm here, baby, I'm here," I whispered frantically, pacing back and forth across the plush carpet, humming as loud as I could to drown out the sound of men dying on the floor below us.
Ten minutes felt like ten centuries.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from the nursery ceiling.
Not gunfire. A scraping sound.
I snapped my head up. The ventilation grate above the mahogany rocking chair was vibrating. A heavy metal screwdriver pushed through the slats, popping the screws out one by one.
My blood ran cold.
The grate fell to the floor with a clatter.
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A tall man in full black tactical gear dropped down from the ceiling duct, landing silently on the carpet five feet away from me. He wore a balaclava covering his face, but his cold blue eyes locked straight onto me and the baby in my arms.
"Well, well," the intruder sneered through his mask, raising a silenced pistol straight at my head. "The mob boss's new whore and his bastard kid. This makes my bonus twice as big."
