Chapter 7 - The Confrontation and Retribution
The black armored SUV crashed through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, sending shattered iron and sparks flying into the night rain.
Dominic didn't wait for the vehicle to come to a complete stop.
He kicked his door open, stepping out into the storm with terrifying grace. He carried a heavy assault rifle in his hands, his eyes cold, lethal, and merciless.
“Frank, take the back perimeter!” Dominic ordered. “Isabella, stay in the vehicle with Vance!”
“No!” I shouted, stepping out after him into the pouring rain. “I’m coming with you!”
Dominic turned, grabing my jacket, his face inches from mine in the storm. “Isabella, it’s dangerous!”
“My daughter is in there!” I screamed above the roar of the wind. “I’m not staying out here!”
Dominic looked into my eyes, saw the fierce motherly fire that matched his own, and nodded once. He racked the bolt of his weapon. “Stay behind me. If anyone raises a weapon, drop to the floor.”
We charged into the estate through the shattered glass doors of the patio.
Inside, the grand foyer was a warzone. Two of Vance’s mercenaries were searching the upper balcony.
Dominic raised his rifle.
Thwack! Thwack!
Double-taps echoed through the hall. Both mercenaries collapsed over the marble railing, dead before they hit the ground.
Dominic moved through his house like a phantom, clearing room after room with brutal efficiency. Within four minutes, six intruders lay neutralized on the floor.
We sprinted down into the wine cellar.
At the end of the hall, near the panic room door, the lead mercenary was preparing an explosive charge to blow the keypad!
“Hey!” I screamed, grabbing a heavy glass wine bottle from a shelf and hurling it with all my strength.
The bottle shattered against the man’s face, drenching him in red wine and glass. He stumbled back, roaring in pain.
Dominic closed the distance in a flash. He grabbed the mercenary by his tactical vest, drove his knee into the man’s ribs, and slammed his head directly into the brick wall. The man collapsed, unconscious.
Silence returned to the basement, broken only by our heavy breathing.
Dominic stepped up to the metallic keypad near the barrel rack. His hands were covered in soot and rain, but his fingers were steady.
He punched in the code: 0-8-1-2.
The pneumatic seal hissed. The heavy steel door slid open.
Inside the softly lit room, sitting on the leather sofa, was Leo—holding a sleeping Lily in his arms.
Leo looked up. When he saw Dominic standing in the doorway, drenched in rain, weapon lowered, the six-year-old’s stoic defense finally crumbled.
“Dad!” Leo cried out.
Dominic dropped his weapon onto the floor, fell to his knees, and opened his arms.
Leo scrambled off the couch, running straight into his father’s embrace. Dominic gathered his son close, burying his face in the boy’s dark hair, his massive shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelmed sobs.
“You protected her,” Dominic choked out, kissing Leo’s forehead over and over. “You protected your sister, Leo. You were so brave.”
“I remembered what you taught me, Dad,” Leo sobbed into his father’s neck. “I was a Moretti.”
I rushed onto the couch, scooping up a groggy Lily, holding her against my chest as tears of overwhelming relief streamed down my face. She blinked, looking around, and rubbed my wet cheek.
“Mommy?” Lily murmured sleepily. “Did big brother Leo win hide and seek?”
“Yes, baby,” I sobbed, kissing her face. “He won. He saved us all.”
Ten minutes later, the estate was surrounded by dozens of Boston police cruisers and federal emergency vehicles.
Outside in the driveway, Frank dragged Julian Vance out of the SUV in handcuffs, presenting him to the waiting Federal Bureau of Investigation agents.
With the live video footage from the gala, the captured mercenaries, and the mountain of financial fraud evidence Dominic’s legal team presented, Julian Vance was finished. He was led away in federal chains, facing life in prison without parole.
Dominic stood on the front steps of his home, wrapped in a dark coat, watching the police cars drive away into the night.
I walked out to stand beside him, wrapping my arm around his waist.
Dominic looked down at me, pulling me tight against his side. The dark shadow that had hung over his life for five long years was finally gone. The air was clean. The night was peaceful.
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“It’s over, Isabella,” Dominic whispered, kissing the top of my head. “The past is finally dead.”
“No,” I said, looking back at the house where Leo and Lily were sitting in the living room drinking hot chocolate with Maria. “The past is gone. Our future is just beginning.”
