Chapter 5 - The Midnight Breach
The rain continued to lash against the reinforced glass of Villa Moretti as midnight descended.
Inside the east suite, the lights were dimmed. Emma was fast asleep in the large canopy bed, clutching her blue rabbit—now minus the microchip, which Alessandro had safely extracted and handed over to his tech specialists.
I sat in a velvet armchair by the window, watching the shadows dance across the manicured lawns.
Clack. Click.
A faint, metallic sound echoed from the hallway outside our heavy oak door.
My heart leapt into my throat. I stood up silently, creeping toward the door. I pressed my ear against the wood.
The sound of a suppressed firearm being cocked.
Someone was picking the smart-lock.
Before I could turn around to wake Emma, the door clicked open. A dark, masked figure slipped into the room, holding a silenced pistol. In the dim moonlight, I saw the glint of a silver ring on his right index finger—a ring bearing the crest of the Romano family.
I didn't scream. Panic gave way to a primal, blinding maternal instinct. I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the mantelpiece just as the intruder turned toward the bed where Emma was sleeping.
“Get away from her!” I screamed, hurling myself forward and bringing the heavy brass down with all my might across the intruder’s shoulder.
He grunted, stumbling back, and swung the butt of his pistol toward my head. I braced for the impact—
Bang!
A single, deafening gunshot echoed in the hallway.
The intruder froze, his eyes widening in shock. A dark red blossom bloomed across the chest of his tactical vest, and he collapsed onto the Persian rug with a lifeless thud.
I dropped the candlestick, shaking uncontrollably, sliding down against the wall.
Stepping over the threshold, his black coat swirling around his ankles and a smoking Beretta in his hand, was Alessandro Moretti. His face was twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated wrath.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, rushing across the room and kneeling beside me, his hands gripping my shoulders.
“No,” I gasped, tears finally breaking free. “No, I’m okay. But Emma—is she—”
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“She’s asleep,” Alessandro said, glancing at the bed where Emma was barely stirring, still clutching her blanket. He pulled me into his arms, pressing my head against his chest. For a moment, the fearsome mafia boss wasn't a king or a syndicate ruler; he was simply a shield holding back the dark.
“They sent an assassin inside my own villa,” Alessandro whispered, his voice vibrating with deadly ice against my hair. “Don Romano has signed his own death warrant.”
