Chapter 5 - The Ambush
The rain fell in relentless sheet over Oak Brook, washing away the remnants of the white snow and leaving the landscape dark, slick, and treacherous.
It was three months to the day since the car accident on Lower Wacker Drive.
Inside the Marchetti estate, the lights were dimmed. Most of the heavy security detail had been intentionally deployed to the downtown docks under the guise of an emergency shipment, leaving only Gabriel and four guards visible on the estate grounds.
In his grand study, Elias sat in his mechanical wheelchair behind his mahogany desk. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms, and dark trousers. His left leg was still fitted with the black brace.
Maeve sat on the sofa near the fireplace, editing a list of household supply orders. She wore a simple navy blue dress, Sienna’s pearls hanging loosely around her neck.
"Avery," Elias said softly, turning his chair to face her. "I want you to go upstairs to the safe room in the master suite."
Maeve looked up from her papers, frowning. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"Just a precaution," Elias said smoothly. "The weather is getting worse, and—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the heavy glass windows of the conservatory at the end of the hall shattered with a deafening CRASH!
Automatic gunfire erupted outside! Loud explosions rattled the foundation of the house, throwing the paintings off the walls!
Maeve screamed, dropping her papers as the alarms throughout the mansion began to blare in high-pitched, terrifying screeches!
"Elias!" she shrieked, sprinting across the room toward his wheelchair!
"Stay down!" Elias commanded, his voice cold and hard as steel, but he remained in his chair, playing his part as the helpless master of the house.
The heavy mahogany doors of the study were blown inward off their hinges in a cloud of splinters and smoke!
Two tall, heavily armed men in black tactical gear and tactical masks burst into the room, their submachine guns raised! Behind them stood Tony Moretti—Marcus Moretti’s ruthless younger brother, holding a silenced pistol, a sadistic grin stretched across his face.
"Well, well, well," Tony sneered, stepping over the shattered wood of the door frame. "Look at the great Elias Marchetti. The king of Chicago, sitting in a rolling chair like a helpless old grandpa."
Maeve stood frozen between the sofa and Elias's desk. Her terror was overwhelming, her body shaking violently, but when she saw Tony raise his pistol toward Elias's head, something inside her snapped.
"Gabriel!" Elias called out calmly, though he knew Gabriel was currently locking down the perimeter from the security booth.
"Your guards are dead or pinned down outside, Marchetti!" Tony laughed, raising his weapon. "Marcus sends his regards. Time to put the cripple out of his misery."
Tony centered his gun sights directly on Elias’s chest.
In that fraction of a second, Maeve didn't hesitate. She didn't hesitate for a single microsecond.
With a desperate, primal cry, Maeve threw her body directly in front of Elias’s wheelchair!
She spread her arms wide, shielding his broad chest and head with her own slender frame, her hazel eyes blazing with pure, terrifying defiance as she stared down the barrel of Tony Moretti’s gun.
"You'll have to shoot me first!" Maeve roared, her voice echoing through the smoke-filled study!
Tony blinked in surprise, stopping his finger on the trigger. "Get out of the way, girl! You're just an Ashford whore!"
"NO!" Maeve screamed, pressing her back flush against Elias's chest, feeling his broad heart beating against her spine. "I won't let you hurt him!"
Behind her, in the shadow of her protection, Elias Marchetti’s universe shifted forever.
He looked at the back of her small head, at the soft brown hair whipping around her shoulders, at the way her thin body trembled as she prepared to take a bullet for a man she believed couldn't move his legs to save himself.
Every test he had ever designed, every cynicism he had ever held about human nature, every cold calculation of power destroyed in an instant.
She truly loved him. Enough to die for him.
Elias’s dark eyes turned into pure, unadulterated fire.
"Avery," Elias whispered softly into her ear.
"Stay behind me, Elias!" she cried frantically, trying to push him deeper into the chair. "I won't let them—"
"Avery," Elias repeated, his gravelly voice dropping into a register of terrifying, godlike authority. "Close your eyes."
"What?" she sobbed, confused.
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Slowly, effortlessly, Elias Marchetti placed his massive hands on the armrests of his wheelchair.
And then, right behind her... the crippled crime boss stood up.
