Chapter 5 - The Siege in the Dark
By 11:00 PM, the Torino mansion had been transformed into an impenetrable fortress.
Dozens of armed men patrolled the perimeter, hiding in the shadows of the manicured gardens.
Inside, the crystal chandeliers were turned off, plunging the massive estate into eerie darkness.
Vincent escorted Carmen and Isabella to the underground panic room beneath the wine cellar.
The room was lined with solid steel and stocked with enough supplies to last for weeks.
Isabella clung tightly to her mother’s leg, her small face buried in Carmen’s skirt.
"I am scared, Mr. Vincent," the little girl whimpered softly.
Vincent knelt down, pulling a small, silver St. Jude medallion from his own neck.
He placed the chain carefully around Isabella’s neck.
"This kept me safe in very bad times," Vincent told her gently.
"As long as you wear it, no monsters can ever reach you."
He stood up and looked at Carmen, the unspoken tension between them hanging heavily in the air.
Without thinking, Carmen reached out and grabbed the lapels of his dark suit.
She pulled him down slightly and pressed a desperate, fierce kiss against his cheek.
"Please come back to us," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I always come back," Vincent promised, turning away and locking the heavy steel door behind him.
When he reached the main floor, the silence was suddenly shattered by the deafening sound of an explosion.
The front gates of the estate had just been blown completely off their hinges.
Gunfire erupted outside, lighting up the dark windows with bright, lethal flashes.
Vincent drew his custom pistol, calmly stepping into the center of the grand foyer.
He was not a man who hid behind his soldiers while they fought his battles.
The heavy front doors burst open, and five Moretti soldiers rushed inside with automatic weapons.
Vincent did not hesitate, his aim flawless and completely ruthless.
Two men dropped instantly before they could even pull their triggers.
Marco appeared from the hallway, providing covering fire as more enemies poured through the entrance.
The mansion, usually a place of expensive peace, turned into a chaotic, bloody warzone.
Glass shattered, marble pillars chipped, and the air filled with the thick, suffocating smell of gunpowder.
Vincent moved with deadly precision, protecting his home like a cornered lion.
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But as he ducked behind a velvet sofa to reload, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
Marco was standing in the doorway, his weapon pointed directly at Vincent’s back.
