Chapter 7 - Healing in the Citadel
Back at the estate, horror had unfolded.
The grand hallway was filled with smoke, shattering glass, and the sharp crackle of suppressed gunfire.
Elena had locked the heavy oak door of the master suite the moment she heard the first gunshots echoing from the ground floor. She had dragged a massive mahogany dresser across the floor, jamming it against the door frame.
“Mama?” Mia whimpered, sitting in the center of the big bed, clutching Barnaby the green dragon to her chest. “Are there monsters outside?”
“Shh, baby, stay under the covers,” Elena whispered frantically, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the nightstand and standing in front of the door. Her pulse hammered in her ears like a war drum.
Outside, heavy combat boots stomped down the carpeted hallway.
BOOM!
The bedroom door rattled violently as a heavy shoulder slammed against it from the outside.
“Open the door, lady!” a rough, gruff voice shouted from the hallway. “Costa wants you alive, but the kid is optional!”
“Go to hell!” Elena screamed, tightening her grip on the heavy candlestick.
BOOM!
The wooden door frame splintered. A heavy boot kicked through the upper panel, shattering the wood into jagged fragments. A large, gloved hand reached through the hole, attempting to slide the brass deadbolt lock back.
Elena didn't hesitate. She swung the heavy brass candlestick with all her strength, smashing it down onto the gunman’s hand.
The man howled in pain, pulling his bleeding hand back through the shattered hole. “You stupid bitch! Kick it down!”
Two more heavy impacts rocked the door. The mahogany dresser slid backward two inches on the hardwood floor. They were going to breach the room in seconds.
Elena stepped back toward the bed, throwing her body over Mia, shielding her daughter with her own frame as tears poured down her face.
“I love you, Mia,” Elena sobbed softly into her daughter’s neck. “I love you so much.”
Suddenly, from the hallway outside, a different sound echoed through the house.
It wasn't the sound of breach charges or shouting mercenaries.
It was the terrifying, rhythmic roar of a heavy automatic shotgun—and the cold, furious voice of a man who had returned from the underworld to claim his revenge.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Screams of terror echoed from the corridor, followed by the heavy thuds of bodies slamming against the walls and carpet.
“It’s The Dawn!” a mercenary screamed in absolute panic. “He’s back! Fall back to the stairs—!”
BANG!
Silence fell over the hallway. Absolute, terrifying silence.
Elena held her breath, her chest heaving, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she waited beneath the blankets.
Footsteps approached the shattered door—slow, heavy, and deliberate.
A large, blood-stained hand reached through the broken wooden panel, carefully sliding the heavy dresser away from the interior side. The door creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was Antonio Moretti.
His tactical turtleneck was torn at the shoulder, soaked with rain and blood. He held a tactical shotgun in his left hand, his face covered in soot and minor cuts, his slate-gray eyes wild with adrenaline and terrifying fury.
When his eyes landed on Elena and Mia sitting unharmed on the bed, the lethal rage vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by raw, staggering relief.
He dropped the shotgun onto the floor.
“Elena...” he breathed, stepping over the shattered wood and falling to his knees beside the bed.
Elena scrambled off the bed and threw her arms around his neck, weeping hysterically against his chest. Antonio wrapped his broad arms around her, pulling her so tight against his body that she could feel the frantic, wild pounding of his heart against her cheek.
“You came back,” she sobbed. “You came back for us!”
“I will always come back for you,” Antonio whispered hoarsely, burying his face in her soft hair, his body trembling with the aftershocks of fear. “I will never let anyone hurt you again.”
Mia crawled across the bed, holding Barnaby the dragon. She reached out with her small hand, pressing her red-and-white plastic stethoscope right against the torn fabric of Antonio’s bloody shirt.
“Your heart is beating fast, Mister,” Mia whispered, offering him a sweet, shy smile. “Is it happy now?”
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Antonio looked at the little girl. Tears mixed with soot tracked down his cheeks as he reached out with a trembling hand, pulling Mia into his embrace alongside Elena.
“Yes, sweet girl,” Antonio whispered, kissing Mia’s forehead, then pressing a soft, passionate kiss against Elena’s lips. “My heart is completely happy.”
