Chapter 5 - Fire and Blood
Midnight brought a storm that rattled the tall glass windows of the estate. Thunder crashed over the dark hills, driving heavy sheets of rain against the stone walls.
I couldn't sleep. The image of Anthony slamming his uncle against the fireplace kept playing in my head, accompanied by the terrifying realization of how deeply I was falling under his spell. He was a monster to the world, a killer to his enemies, but to me and his son, he was an impenetrable shield.
I got out of bed, wrapped a dark silk robe around my nightgown, and walked out into the corridor to check on Luca.
His room was quiet, the little boy sleeping peacefully under his star duvet, clutching his teddy bear. Relief washed over me, and I turned to head down to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As I reached the grand staircase, a sudden, unnatural click echoed through the dark foyer below.
Then, the power died.
The glowing wall sconces went black, plunging the massive mansion into absolute darkness.
I froze on the landing, my instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong. Emergency generators should have kicked in within three seconds, but the house remained dead silent—save for the howling wind outside.
A faint, metallic muffled pop sounded from the lower service entrance.
Suppressed gunfire.
My heart plummeted into my stomach. The grid had been shut down from the inside.
“Luca,” I gasped under my breath, turning on my heel to sprint back toward the family wing.
Before I could reach his door, a heavy hand grabbed my arm from the shadows of the corridor, pulling me roughly into a darkened alcove.
I opened my mouth to scream, but a broad, calloused palm slammed over my lips, pinning me firmly against a broad, warm chest.
“Quiet,” Anthony’s voice rasped in my ear, hot and tense.
I sagged against him in relief as he slowly lifted his hand from my mouth. He was wearing dark trousers and a black tactical shirt, a suppressed pistol held ready in his right hand. The scent of rain, gunpowder, and cedar rolled off him in waves.
“Who is it?” I whispered frantically, clutching his arm. “Is it the Morettis?”
“An internal breach,” Anthony snarled softly, his eyes scanning the pitch-black hallway with lethal focus. “Someone opened the east perimeter gate and cut the backup generators. There are at least six shooters inside the house.”
“Luca—!”
“Dominic has Luca in the master safe room behind my study,” Anthony interrupted, his hand sliding down my arm to grip my waist, pulling me flush against his side. “I came back for you.”
A surge of emotion—wild, terrifying, and sweet—flooded my chest. He came back for me. In the middle of an armed assault on his life, he hadn't gone to the vault; he had come to the hallway where I slept.
Footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs—heavy, tactical boots moving in formation.
“Search the family wing!” a harsh, accented voice barked down the hall. “Pellagrini is upstairs! Find the girl and the boy—Julian wants them alive for leverage!”
Anthony’s grip on my waist tightened. He leaned close to my ear, his lips brushing my skin. “Listen to me, Elena. I need you to walk down the service corridor behind the linen closet. It leads straight to the safe room. Do not stop. Do not look back.”
“What about you?” I whimpered, grabbing the front of his tactical vest. “Anthony, there are too many of them!”
He looked down at me through the dark, his golden eyes glowing with a fierce, predatory light that made my soul tremble.
He reached up, cupping the back of my neck, and pulled my face to his.
His lips met mine in a kiss that blew away the storm, the dark, and the fear raging around us. It was hard, possessive, and filled with a desperate, wild passion that claimed everything I was and everything I would ever be.
When he pulled back, my lips were tingling, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
“They crossed my fence, Elena,” Anthony whispered dark and deadly against my mouth. “They threatened my family. Now watch how I clean my house.”
He pushed me gently toward the linen closet door, raised his pistol, and stepped out into the dark hallway.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Shouts of pain echoed down the corridor, followed by the heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor.
I didn't run to the safe room. I ducked into the linen closet, keeping the door cracked open an inch, my heart in my throat as I watched the man I loved turn the darkened hallway into a nightmare for his enemies.
Anthony moved like a phantom—ruthless, precise, and unstoppable. Every shot he fired found its mark. When a tactical shooter rushed him from an adjoining room, Anthony grabbed the man’s gun arm, broke it with a sickening snap, and drove his tactical knife straight through the man’s chest without missing a beat.
In less than two minutes, five mercenaries lay dead on the Persian runner.
The sixth man—the leader—stumbled backward toward the staircase, bleeding from a shoulder wound, raising his rifle frantically.
“Pellagrini!” the leader screamed in panic. “Marco paid us! Marco gave us the security codes!”
Anthony didn't stop. He walked forward slowly, his heavy boots crushing shattered glass, his face dripping with rain and enemy blood.
“I know,” Anthony said softly.
He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
Pop.
The leader fell backward down the grand marble staircase, his lifeless body rolling to a stop in the foyer below.
Silence reclaimed the mansion.
Anthony stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving, his weapon smoking in his grip.
I stepped out of the linen closet, my hands shaking, tears streaming down my face.
Anthony turned around. When he saw me standing there, untouched and safe, the lethal rage in his eyes evaporated, replaced by a raw, desperate vulnerability. He dropped his smoking gun onto the floor, strode across the hallway, and swept me into his arms.
He lifted me completely off my feet, crushing me against his chest, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he held me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“You’re safe,” he choked out, his voice trembling—the first time I had ever heard fear in the voice of Anthony Pellagrini. “God help me, Elena... you’re safe.”
May you like
I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my hands in his dark hair, kissing his blood-stained cheek as I sobbed against his skin.
“I’m here, Anthony,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
