Chapter 6 - The Night Battle
Panic was a luxury Emma Brooks did not have time to indulge in.
As the intruder stepped over the sliding door threshold, his rubber-soled boots making barely a sound on the plush nursery carpet, Emma’s instincts as a former preschool teacher and a fiercely protective protector took over. She didn't have a weapon, but she knew this wing of the house better than any outsider.
She slipped backward into the adjoining linen closet, her hand closing around the heavy wooden handle of a solid maple broom used for quick hallway cleanups.
The intruder moved toward Lily’s crib, his flashlight casting a narrow beam of white light across the white-painted rails.
“Target located,” the man whispered into a comms unit clipped to his collar. “Securing the asset.”
He reached down, his gloved hands descending toward the sleeping child.
That was when Emma stepped out of the shadows.
With a fierce, guttural cry born of pure adrenaline, she swung the heavy maple broom with all the strength in her upper body. The wood struck the intruder squarely across the side of his tactical helmet with a resounding crack that echoed through the nursery.
The man staggered sideways, tumbling against the rocking chair, his pistol clattering across the floorboards.
“What the—!” he cursed, grabbing his head.
“Get away from her!” Emma screamed, raising the broom for a second strike.
Before the intruder could recover his balance, the doorway exploded inward.
Gabriel Moretti filled the frame. His face was a mask of cold, lethal fury. He didn’t bother asking questions; his Sig Sauer rose with terrifying speed, and two silenced shots popped in rapid succession.
The intruder slumped unconscious against the baseboard, neutralized instantly.
Gabriel’s dark eyes swept the room, instantly assessing the threat before locking onto Emma, who stood trembling slightly with the broken broom still clutched in her hands.
“Are you hurt?” Gabriel demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
“N-No,” Emma stammered, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline began to fade. “I heard him on the balcony. He was going for Lily.”
Gabriel crossed the room in two strides, scooping the sleeping toddler out of her crib and holding her tight against his broad chest. He looked down at the unconscious operative on the floor, then back at Emma.
“You shouldn't have been out here,” Gabriel said, though the harshness in his voice had softened into something unreadable. “You should have locked yourself in the kitchen.”
“And let him take Lily?” Emma retorted, her brown eyes flashing with sudden, righteous anger despite her fear. “I don't care what kind of enemies you have, Mr. Moretti. In this house, children are off-limits. If you wanted a maid who cowers in a corner when trouble walks through the window, you hired the wrong person.”
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Gabriel stared at her. For the first time in three years—since the night he lost Elena in the sterile hospital corridor—something warm and unfamiliar stirred deep within his chest.
“No,” Gabriel said quietly, his gaze holding hers with intense, unwavering gravity. “I think I hired exactly the right person.”
