Chapter 8 - Blood and Bread
By 11:00 p.m., the Long Island estate was swallowed by an impenetrable sea fog rolling off the Atlantic.
Inside the mansion, all the lights were extinguished. The grand hallways were pitch black, illuminated only by the faint glow of emergency exit signs. The staff had been safely secured in the reinforced basement shelter beneath the wine cellar.
In the second-floor nursery, Hannah sat in the corner shadow, holding Lucas, who was blissfully sleeping through the impending storm of violence. She wore a dark sweater and heavy boots. On the table beside her sat a loaded shotgun Marcus had handed her with a brief, grim tutorial on how to pull the trigger.
Across the room, Adrian stood by the window, peering out into the fog with night-vision binoculars.
“They’re at the perimeter fence,” Adrian murmured into his comm-link. “Cutting the wire near the eastern boathouse. Let them cross the lawn. Don't engage until they reach the terrace.”
“Copy that, Boss,” Marcus’s voice crackled back through the earpiece.
Hannah gripped the stock of the shotgun, her knuckles white. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her ears, drowning out the distant crash of the waves. She was a baker, not a soldier. But looking down at Lucas’s peaceful face, she knew she would tear through an army with her bare hands before she let anyone lay a finger on him.
Suddenly, the front glass windows of the grand foyer below shattered with a deafening crash.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Automatic gunfire erupted downstairs. Muzzle flashes strobed through the darkness of the lower level like angry lightning. Shouts, curses, and the brutal thud of hand-to-hand combat echoed up the sweeping marble staircase.
“They’re inside,” Adrian said calmly, though every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring.
He drew his pistol, flicked off the safety, and positioned himself directly in front of the nursery door, his body a human shield between the hallway and his son.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Two men in tactical black gear, wearing night-vision goggles and carrying submachine guns, rounded the corner of the second-floor landing.
Adrian didn't hesitate.
Thud-thud!
His silenced pistol spat fire twice. Both intruders dropped instantly before they could even raise their weapons.
“Clear!” Adrian shouted into his comm.
Suddenly, a figure lunged from the shadows of the adjacent hallway—Salvatore Rossi himself.
Salvatore’s face was twisted in a manic, desperate grin. He held a pistol pointed straight at Adrian’s chest, but before he could fire, a second figure tackled him from the side.
It was Leo, the young rookie guard, who had taken a grazing wound to his shoulder but fought like a tiger to protect his boss.
Adrian strode forward, kicking the gun out of Salvatore’s hand with a brutal, sickening crunch of bone against the hardwood floor. He grabbed Salvatore by the collar of his suit jacket and hauled him to his feet, slamming him hard against the wall.
Salvatore gasped for air, blood dripping from his nose. “You... you’re finished, Adrian... the council... the Russians...”
“The Russians are currently bleeding out in my driveway,” Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “And the council is going to watch me take your head off.”
“Adrian! Look out!” Hannah’s sharp cry rang out from the doorway.
Another rogue gunman had slipped up the rear service stairs, raising an assault rifle directly toward Hannah and the baby in the nursery.
Adrian didn't even look back. With lightning-fast reflexes, he drew his second pistol from his shoulder holster and fired blindly over his shoulder.
Crack.
The bullet caught the gunman square in the chest. The man dropped his rifle and crumpled backward down the back stairs.
Adrian turned his full, terrifying gaze back onto Salvatore. He didn't waste another breath on words. With a single, brutal punch to the jaw, he knocked the traitor unconscious, letting Salvatore’s limp body slump to the floor like a sack of garbage.
“Marcus!” Adrian called out into the comm. “Sweep the house. Clean up this trash.”
“On it, Boss,” Marcus’s voice replied, sounding winded but victorious.
Adrian turned back toward the nursery, dropping his weapons onto a side table. He rushed across the room, falling to his knees beside Hannah, who was still gripping the shotgun with trembling hands.
“Are you okay?” Adrian demanded, his hands frantically checking her arms, her shoulders, making sure she wasn't hurt. “Did they touch you?”
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“We’re fine,” Hannah breathed, tears finally breaking free and spilling down her cheeks as the adrenaline rush began to wear off. “We’re safe.”
Adrian pulled them both into his arms, wrapping his massive frame around Hannah and Lucas, burying his face in her shoulder as he trembled—not from fear of the enemies he had just defeated, but from the terrifying realization of how close he had come to losing everything that mattered.
