Chapter 8 - The Siege of Greenwich
Fear surged through Karen like an electric shock, but survival instinct took over.
Instead of screaming, she slammed her heel down hard onto the intruder’s expensive leather shoe with all her weight.
The man grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for Karen to wrench herself free. She spun around, driving her elbow upward into his chest, and sprinted blindly toward the lit terrace where Lorenzo and Marcus were talking.
“Lorenzo!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the night air.
Instantly, the terrace erupted into motion.
Dark figures materialized from the treeline—men in tactical gear carrying silenced firearms. Shots rang out, shattering the serene silence of the estate as glass windows splintered and security alarms shrieked across the grounds.
Lorenzo moved with terrifying speed. He didn't draw a weapon; he vaulted over the stone balustrade, closing the distance between himself and the intruders in seconds.
“Secure the panic room!” Lorenzo roared to Marcus, his eyes locked onto Karen as she stumbled toward the terrace stairs.
Karen didn’t hesitate. She ran straight toward the main doors, where Marcus was already ushering a crying Mia into the reinforced steel bunker beneath the library.
“Inside! Now!” Marcus commanded, pushing Karen into the brightly lit, heavily armored room.
As the massive steel door hissed shut, sealing them off from the gunfire outside, Karen collapsed against the wall, her hands trembling violently. Mia rushed into her arms, burying her face in Karen's jacket while sobbing in terror.
“We’re safe, Mia. I’ve got you,” Karen whispered, stroking the little girl’s hair while her own heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Outside the bunker, muffled explosions and the sharp cracks of gunfire echoed through the subterranean concrete walls. For twenty endless minutes, absolute silence hung over the estate.
Then, the heavy steel door clicked.
It slowly swung open.
Standing in the doorway was Lorenzo. His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder, a thin streak of blood ran down his temple, and his knuckles were raw and bruised. But his dark eyes were clear, fierce, and entirely focused on them.
“Are you hurt?” Lorenzo asked, his voice rough as he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Karen and Mia.
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“No,” Karen breathed, reaching up with a trembling hand to gently touch the blood on his temple. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” Lorenzo murmured, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second as he leaned his forehead against hers, letting out a long, ragged breath of pure relief. “As long as you both are breathing, I am invincible.”
