Chapter 8 - The Siege
The storm broke just after midnight.
Victor was in the master suite with Lucia, holding a suppressed tactical pistol. Outside, the sound of screeching tires and automatic gunfire shattered the quiet of the estate. Moretti hadn’t just sent a hit squad to the clinic; it was a coordinated two-front attack. He had sent his heavy hitters to the manor to take the girl.
“Cover your ears, piccola,” Victor told Lucia gently, hiding her inside the reinforced walk-in closet. “Do not come out until I open the door.”
Lucia nodded bravely, clutching a stuffed bear.
Victor stepped out of the closet just as the bedroom door splintered inward. Two of Moretti’s assassins rushed in.
Victor moved with a terrifying, fluid violence. He fired twice, dropping the first man instantly. The second man lunged with a combat knife. Victor sidestepped, grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped, and driving the butt of his pistol into the man’s temple.
The radio on Victor’s belt crackled. It was Dante.
“Boss, the clinic is secure. We repelled them. Sofia is safe. But we’re pinned down in the courtyard at the manor. They brought heavy artillery.”
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“Hold the line,” Victor barked.
Victor stepped out into the hallway. He wasn't just a boss anymore. He was a father protecting his home. He moved like a ghost through his own mansion, systematically dismantling Moretti’s strike team. By the time he reached the grand foyer, the marble floors were slick with blood, and Moretti’s remaining men were fleeing into the night.
