Chapter 9 - Fire at the Citadel
Lorenzo’s promise was tested less than an hour later.
Julian Vance had not acted alone. Before entering the estate, he had sent a signal to the Falcone syndicate—telling them that Lorenzo was vulnerable and that the time to strike the Moretti stronghold was now.
At 2:00 AM, the sirens across the estate grounds began to blare.
WAIIL! WAIIL! WAIIL!
Red emergency lights flashed through the hallways, casting long, bloody shadows across the marble arches.
"Boss!" Marco shouted, bursting into the study where Lorenzo was rapidly issuing orders to his loyal captains. "Falcone’s main force just breached the lower gates! They brought armored trucks and explosive charges! They’re trying to burn the estate to the ground!"
Lorenzo didn't flinch. He stood behind his mahogany desk, strapping a tactical vest over his black shirt, securing two magazines into his belt.
"Evacuate the non-combat staff through the sea-cave tunnels," Lorenzo ordered coldly. "Marco, take half the men and hold the main courtyard. Do not let them reach the upper residential wing."
"Understood, Boss!" Marco yelled, turning and sprinting down the hall.
Lorenzo turned to me. I was wearing a simple black sweater and jeans provided by Rosa, holding Matteo securely against my chest in a tactical baby carrier Lorenzo had adjusted for me.
"Follow me," Lorenzo said, taking my hand.
He led me down a hidden stairwell behind the library bookshelf—a narrow, stone-walled passage that descended deep into the cliffs beneath the mansion.
"Where are we going?" I asked over the distant thunder of explosions rocking the foundation above us.
"To the docks," Lorenzo said, keeping his gun raised as we descended. "I have a speedboat moored in the sea cave. You and Matteo are getting out of the city tonight."
"What about you?" I demanded, stopping on the stone steps, gripping his arm tightly. "You’re coming with us!"
Lorenzo stopped, turning to look at me in the dim torchlight of the tunnel. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of my neck, pulling my face close to his.
"If I leave, Falcone will follow us to the ends of the earth," Lorenzo said softly, his storm-gray eyes burning with a dark, romantic intensity that made my breath catch. "I have to end this tonight, Mara. For Clara. For Matteo. And for you."
"Lorenzo, no!" I pleaded, tears burning my eyes. "I just found you! Matteo needs his father!"
"And he has you," Lorenzo murmured, his thumb gently tracing my lower lip. "You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Mara Vance. If I don't survive tonight, everything I own belongs to you and my son."
Before I could answer, the iron door at the top of the stairwell was blown off its hinges with a deafening BOOM!
Plaster and dust rained down on us.
"They found the passage!" a voice shouted from above.
Lorenzo shoved me behind him, raising his weapon and firing five rapid shots up the stairwell. Two Falcone hitmen tumbled down the stone steps, lifeless.
"Run, Mara!" Lorenzo roared, firing again. "Run to the boat! Don't look back!"
I looked at Lorenzo—his broad shoulders framed against the fire, fighting like a demon to protect the woman and child he loved.
I didn't run.
I saw a fallen hitman’s tactical shotgun lying on the steps three feet from me.
I stepped forward, scooped up the heavy shotgun, racked the slide with a loud, metallic CLACK, and aimed it right past Lorenzo’s shoulder toward the top of the stairs.
"I’m a waitress from South Boston," I yelled over the chaos, my eyes blazing. "We don't leave our family behind!"
BOOM!
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The heavy shotgun blast tore through the smoke, driving back the next wave of attackers. Lorenzo looked at me in complete, stunned disbelief, before a dark, triumphant smile broke across his face.
"God help me," Lorenzo laughed darkly, reloading his pistol. "You really are a Moretti."
