Chapter 7 - The Battle for Lake Forest
The third-floor hallway was filled with smoke and the deafening echoes of gunfire from below.
Clara sprinted down the corridor, her heart hammering against her ribs. She threw open the door to Leo’s bedroom.
Inside, the room was dark, the emergency lights casting an eerie red glow across the floor. Mrs. Gable lay unconscious near the bookshelf, having been struck by a piece of shattered glass from the window.
In the corner, wedged beneath his grand piano, sat Leo. His hands were clamped tightly over his ears, his body rocking back and forth violently as the terrifying sounds of war echoed through the mansion.
"Leo!" Clara cried out, dropping to her knees and crawling beneath the piano beside him.
She didn't grab him. She pulled his noise-canceling headphones from her coat pocket, gently placed them over his ears, and wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders, shielding his body with her own.
"I’m here, Leo," Clara whispered repeatedly, her lips pressed against his hair. "I’m here. Soft blue. Soft blue."
Gradually, the violent rocking slowed. Leo opened his eyes, looking into Clara’s face through the dim red light, his small fingers reaching out to clutch the fabric of her sweater.
Suddenly, the bedroom door was kicked open with a shattering crash.
Standing in the doorway was Luca Moretti, holding a heavy tactical rifle, his face smeared with soot and blood. Behind him stood two muscular mercenaries wearing black body armor.
"Well, well," Luca sneered, stepping into the room, pointing his weapon directly at Clara and Leo. "The brave little pianist and the defective heir."
Clara stood up slowly, positioning her body entirely between Luca’s rifle and the young boy beneath the piano.
"Leave him alone, Luca," Clara said, her voice remarkable in its calm, icy fury. "You’ve lost. The family will never follow a coward who brings foreign mercenaries into his own home."
Luca’s face contorted in rage. "The family will follow whoever holds the throne! Once Dante and his precious boy are dead, the council will have no choice!"
Luca raised the rifle, aiming straight for Clara’s chest.
"Goodnight, Miss Bennett," Luca growled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
BANG! BANG!
Two sharp gunshots echoed through the room.
Luca’s eyes went wide with shock. A dark stain spread across his chest, and he collapsed backward onto the hardwood floor, dropping his rifle.
Standing in the doorway behind him was Dante, his suit torn, blood dripping from his shoulder, holding his smoking silver pistol. The two mercenaries behind Luca dropped their weapons instantly, throwing their hands into the air as Frank and six heavy tactical guards swarmed the corridor.
Dante dropped his weapon, stepped over his cousin's body, and rushed straight to Clara and Leo.
He pulled them both into his arms, holding them with a desperate, crushing intensity, his breathing ragged and heavy.
"Are you hurt?" Dante choked out, his hands trembling as he checked Clara’s face, then kissed the top of Leo’s head. "Are you okay?"
Clara wrapped her arms around Dante’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder, weeping tears of pure relief. "We're okay, Dante. We're okay."
From beneath the piano, Leo reached out, his small hand resting over his father’s bruised knuckles.
May you like
"One," Leo said clearly. "Two. Pause."
Dante looked down at his son, a tear slipping down his cheek, sparkling in the emergency lights, as he let out a breathless, joyful laugh.
