Chapter 6 - The Sieged Fortress
The night sky above the chapel exploded into a blinding furnace of gunfire and mortar rounds.
Roman sprinted up the spiral stairs, taking them three at a time, followed by his four elite operators. The moment his boots hit the ruined chapel floor, a volley of high-caliber rounds tore through the stone arches, showering the sanctuary in splinters and sparks.
"FIRE!" Roman roared!
He stepped out from behind a granite pillar, unleashing a brutal, controlled burst from his assault rifle into a team of Moretti mercenaries rappelling down from the lead helicopter. Three attackers tumbled through the open roof, crashing onto the stone floorboards.
Outside, a line of six dark armored trucks slammed through the parish stone walls, their heavy machine guns opening fire on the chapel structure.
"Boss! Wall collapsing!" one of Roman’s men shouted just before a heavy 50-caliber round blew through the stone pillar, throwing Roman onto his back across the wet marble floor!
Roman rolled instantly, popping up onto his knees, unhooking two thermite charges from his tactical belt. He armed them, hurled them through the broken window frame directly into the engine block of the nearest armored truck, and dove for cover!
KABOOM!
A blinding orange firewall erupted outside, blinding the enemy searchlights and sending a massive shockwave tearing through the chapel ruins.
Meanwhile, three hundred feet beneath the earth, Aurelia was sprinting through a narrow, dripping wet limestone tunnel.
Dante ran ahead of her, his flashlight beam bouncing off the jagged rock walls, carrying the black leather briefcase containing the master ledger.
"Faster, ma'am! The tide is coming in!" Dante yelled over the dull, thudding echoes of the explosions vibrating through the rock ceiling above them.
Aurelia’s heart was hammering against her ribs, but her mind was entirely consumed by the memory of Roman’s kiss at the vault door.
For twelve years, she had survived by trusting no one, feeling nothing, and hiding in the shadows. But Roman Valenti had shattered her cold world in less than twenty-four hours. He had looked at the plain, dirty street rat and seen a queen. He had thrown himself into a death trap to protect her legacy.
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the dark tunnel.
Dante turned around, panting heavily. "Ma'am! What are you doing? We’re fifty yards from the beach!"
Aurelia pulled her thigh knife, checking the blade in the dim light, before drawing the small tactical pistol she had hidden in her jacket pocket.
"Dante," Aurelia said, her voice dropping into an icy, commanding tone that matched her brother's authority. "Take the ledger to the speedboat. Lock it in the secure compartment."
Dante blinked in disbelief. "Ma'am... Roman told me to get you to the boat!"
"Roman is holding off an army with four men!" Aurelia snapped, stepping closer to Dante, her hazel eyes flashing with lethal fury. "I am not a damsel to be smuggled away in the night while my husband fights my war! I am Aurelia DeLuca, and no one dies for me again!"
Before Dante could stop her, Aurelia turned on her heel, sprinting backward through the dark tunnel toward the roar of the battle!
"MA'AM! WAIT!" Dante roared, cursing under his breath as he slammed the briefcase into the boat dock locker, racked his weapon, and sprinted back after her.
Aurelia reached the bottom of the spiral iron staircase just as a heavy explosion tore through the chapel roof above. Dust and stone fragments rained down the stairwell.
She climbed the stairs silently, slipping through the narrow gap beneath the altar, staying low to the ground.
The chapel was engulfed in smoke, rain, and fire.
Two of Roman’s guards were down. Roman himself was crouched behind the altar base, his face covered in soot and blood from a gash on his temple, his assault rifle empty as he dropped the clip and reached for his sidearm.
Ten yards away, stepping through the burning wreckage of the chapel entrance, was Don Marcus Moretti himself.
Marcus was a tall, imposing man in his sixties, dressed in an expensive black fur-collared coat, flanked by four heavily armed mercenaries holding ballistic shields.
"It’s over, Roman!" Marcus laughed, his harsh, gravelly voice carrying over the crackle of the flames. "Your father was a fool, and you're dying for a ghost! Hand over the ledger, and I’ll make your death quick!"
Roman stood up slowly, wiping blood from his cheekbone, holding his silver revolver pointed straight at Marcus's chest. "You burned a fourteen-year-old girl, Marcus. You're not leaving this hill alive."
"I didn't burn her, boy," Marcus sneered, raising his custom gold-plated sidearm. "I’m going to bury her husband."
Marcus pulled the trigger!
BANG!
A shot echoed through the sanctuary—but it didn't come from Marcus’s gun.
Marcus’s right shoulder exploded in a shower of blood! He screamed in agony, dropping his gold gun as he stumbled backward into his guards!
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Standing on top of the ruined marble pulpit, her red-brown hair whipping around her face in the storm, holding a heavy tactical rifle aimed dead-center at the enemy, was Aurelia.
"Looking for me, Marcus?" Aurelia whispered into the wind.
