Chapter 6 - Blood on the Marble
The silence that followed the blackout lasted only three seconds.
Then the auxiliary red emergency lights kicked on, bathing the kitchen in an eerie, bloody glow.
“They cut the main grid at the highway transformer,” Luca said, his voice entirely devoid of panic. He drew a custom black semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster with fluid, practiced ease. “Rossi, take the back stairs. Giannini, secure Don Michael in the wine cellar bunker. Emma, stay behind me.”
“Luca!” Michael barked, rising to his full height. Despite his frailty, the old Don looked like an ancient king going into battle. “Don’t leave the high ground. Salvatore has thermal scopes.”
*Crack!*
The heavy plate-glass window at the far end of the kitchen shattered inward, spraying fragments of crystal across the tile floor.
A heavy flashbang grenade clattered against the stainless-steel prep table.
“Down!” Luca roared.
He threw his entire body over me, tackling me to the floor behind the thick commercial butcher block just as the grenade detonated with an ear-splitting bang and a blinding white flash. The concussion wave slapped against my eardrums, leaving a high-pitched ring that drowned out all sound.
Through the ringing, I heard gunfire.
Automatic weapons—the rapid, rhythmic *thwip-thwip-thwip* of suppressed submachine guns tearing through the kitchen cabinetry. Wood splinters flew like shrapnel. Bags of flour exploded, coating the air in a white, ghostly mist.
Luca rose onto one knee, firing three rapid shots through the broken window. A scream cut through the storm outside, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the stone terrace.
“Marco!” Luca shouted into his tactical radio.
“They breached the north gate, boss!” Marco’s voice crackled through the static. “They drove an armored transport right through the wrought iron! Twenty men on foot! Salvatore is with them!”
Luca grabbed my arm, pulling me up. “Can you run?”
“Yes!” I gasped, terror pumping adrenaline through every vein in my body.
Atlas was already moving. The old shepherd was positioned between us and the broken window, teeth bared, lips curled back in a vicious snarl that revealed strong, sharp canines. Age was gone. Fatigue was gone. Atlas was a war dog protecting his family.
“Atlas, heel!” Luca commanded, pushing me through the swinging double doors into the grand corridor.
The mansion had become a war zone.
Gunfire echoed from the front ballroom. Shadows darted across the grand staircase, illuminated by muzzle flashes and the strobing red emergency beacons. Luca’s men were fighting with brutal efficiency, holding the marble staircase, dropping Bellini’s hitmen as they tried to breach the foyer.
We reached the base of the private elevator that led to the subterranean bunker when the double doors leading from the ballroom burst open.
Three men in black tactical gear stepped through, assault rifles raised.
Luca fired twice, dropping the first two men instantly with headshots that left red sprays across the white wallpaper. But the third man dove behind an antique marble bust, his rifle barrel leveling straight at Luca’s chest.
Luca’s gun clicked. Empty.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The hitman’s finger tightened on the trigger.
*Bark!*
Atlas launched himself through the air.
Seventy pounds of German shepherd hit the hitman’s chest like a battering ram. The old dog clamped his jaws around the man’s gun arm with bone-crushing force. The hitman shrieked, firing a burst of rounds into the plaster ceiling as he tumbled backward onto the floor, fighting desperately to dislodge the dog.
“Atlas!” I screamed.
Luca dropped his empty weapon, drew a combat blade from his boot, and closed the distance in two strides. With a single, brutal thrust, he ended the struggle.
Luca pulled Atlas back. The old dog was panting, his muzzle smeared with blood, but his eyes were bright, fierce, and alive.
“Good boy,” Luca breathed, clapping the dog’s ribs. He looked at me, his eyes blazing in the red emergency light. “Into the elevator. Now!”
He shoved me inside the reinforced steel elevator car, pushing Atlas in behind me.
“What about you?” I cried, grabbing his sleeve.
Luca looked back down the corridor toward the grand foyer, where the unmistakable voice of Salvatore Bellini was shouting orders through the gun smoke.
“I have an engagement to break,” Luca said coldly.
May you like
He hit the override button on the wall, and the heavy steel door slid shut between us, sealing me and Atlas inside as the elevator descended into the earth.
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