Chapter 5 - The Breach
At 3:00 AM, the estate’s power grid died.
The roaring fire in the grate provided the only light as the entire mansion was plunged into pitch darkness. The hum of the climate control ceased, replaced instantly by the howling wind outside.
Clara was back in her third-floor suite, standing beside Mia’s bed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Click.
The red emergency backup lights on the wall flickered on, casting long, blood-colored shadows across the Persian rug.
Then came the sound.
A muffled suppressed gunshot echoed from the floor below, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floorboards.
"Mama?" Mia murmured, rubbing her sleepy eyes, sitting up in the giant bed. "Is it thunder?"
"Shh, baby," Clara whispered, pulling Mia out of bed and lifting her into her arms. "Stay quiet. Mommy’s got you."
Clara ran toward the heavy oak doors of the suite, intending to engage the secondary deadbolts. But before she could reach the brass handle, the door was violently kicked inward.
The wood splintered with a deafening crash.
A tall man in a black tactical jacket stepped into the room. He wore a balaclava covering his face, and in his right hand was a silenced pistol with a laser sight. On his left hand, illuminated by the crimson emergency lights, was a silver chronograph watch with a blue face.
Victor Duca.
"Well, well," Victor sneered, pulling down his mask to reveal a dark, cruel face with a scar running across his cheek. "The maid and her little bastard. Lorenzo moved you to the master wing like royalty. He really has lost his mind."
Clara backed away slowly toward the fireplace, pressing Mia tightly against her chest. "Victor... please. She’s just a child. She doesn't know anything."
"She saw my ring," Victor spat, raising his weapon, pointing the red laser dot straight at Clara’s forehead. "And my dear cousin Lorenzo has become far too attached to both of you. Once I wipe you out, Lorenzo will come running through that hallway blind with rage—right into my sniper's crosshairs."
"You monster," Clara breathed, her eyes darting toward the heavy brass poker sitting beside the fireplace grate.
"Business is business, sweetheart," Victor said, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Say goodnight."
Clara didn't scream. She didn't beg.
With a sudden, ferocious burst of maternal fury, Clara threw herself sideways, shielding Mia with her entire body, while her right hand reached out and grabbed the iron fire poker.
She swung the heavy iron bar with all her strength.
CLANG!
The heavy metal struck Victor square across his wrist, shattering the bone. He screamed in pain, dropping his gun onto the rug as his arm went limp.
"You bitch!" Victor roared, lunging forward with his good hand to grab her hair.
Before his fingers could touch a single strand of Clara’s hair, the wall behind him exploded into splinters.
A massive hand reached through the dark, caught Victor by the back of his throat, and lifted the two-hundred-pound man completely off his feet.
Lorenzo Duca stood in the doorway.
His suit shirt was soaked in rain and blood—none of it his own. His eyes were not human; they were the eyes of a demon unleashed from the deepest depths of hell.
"You touched her," Lorenzo growled, his voice a nightmare made sound.
Lorenzo slammed Victor face-first into the stone mantelpiece with bone-shattering force. Glass shattered, wood cracked, and Victor collapsed to the floor like a ragdoll, coughing up blood, his nose completely crushed.
Lorenzo didn't stop. He stepped forward, raising his heavy boot to end his cousin's life right then and there.
"Lorenzo! No!" Clara cried out, scrambling over the rug, wrapping her arms around Lorenzo’s leg, looking up at him with tears streaming down her face. "Don't do it in front of Mia! Please!"
Lorenzo froze. His boot hovered inches above Victor’s face.
Slowly, the demonic red haze in Lorenzo’s eyes receded, replaced by the sight of Clara holding onto his leg, and little Mia staring wide-eyed from the corner of the room, clutching her plush rabbit.
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Lorenzo lowered his foot. He reached down, grabbed Victor by his collar, and dragged the unconscious traitor out into the hallway, tossing him like garbage to Matteo and Luca, who were rushing up the stairs with four armed guards.
"Take him to the basement," Lorenzo ordered coldly. "Do not let him die until I come down."
