Chapter 4 - THE POISONED NURSERY
The smell of smoke began to drift through the vents,
acrid and thick.
Leo began to stir in his crib,
letting out a soft,
unhappy whimper.
“They’re trying to smoke us out,”
Lorenzo muttered,
tearing a strip of fabric from the nursery curtains.
He soaked it in the water from a decorative vase,
then handed it to me.
“Cover the baby’s face,”
he ordered.
I did as I was told,
the damp cloth feeling cool against Leo’s skin.
The scratching at the door stopped,
replaced by the heavy thud of a battering ram.
The wood began to splinter,
the beautiful oak cracking under the pressure.
Lorenzo stood his ground,
his legs spread wide,
his gun aimed at the center of the door.
“Elena,”
he said,
not looking back.
“If we get out of this,”
“I will make sure your ex-boyfriend never sees the light of day again.”
“I don't want him dead,”
I said,
my voice surprisingly steady.
“I want him to suffer.”
Lorenzo gave a short,
dark laugh.
“You’re a Rossi at heart,”
“even if you don't know it.”
The door gave way with a final,
shattering crash.
A man burst through the opening,
wearing a tactical vest and a mask.
Lorenzo fired twice,
the sound deafening in the small room.
The man collapsed,
sliding back into the hallway.
Another took his place,
and then another.
The nursery was filled with the roar of gunfire and the smell of cordite.
I huddled over the crib,
using my own body as a shield for Leo.
I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder,
a piece of wood or a stray bullet grazing the skin.
I didn't scream,
I just held the baby tighter.
The nurse in the chair was struck by a bullet,
her body jerking once before falling still.
She was dead before she ever woke up.
Lorenzo was a whirlwind of violence,
moving with a speed that didn't seem human.
He was a king defending his castle,
a wolf protecting his pup.
But he was only one man,
and the attackers were many.
He ran out of ammunition for his primary weapon,
dropping it and pulling a knife from his boot.
He threw the knife with deadly precision,
striking an attacker in the throat.
“Elena!
The vents!”
he shouted,
gesturing toward a small crawlspace near the ceiling.
“Go!”
I looked at the narrow opening,
then at the baby.
“I can’t get him through there!”
I cried.
“You have to!”
Lorenzo roared,
fending off another man with his bare hands.
“It’s the only way out!”
I grabbed a chair and climbed up,
pushing Leo into the dark,
dusty tunnel first.
I followed him,
the metal scraping against my skin,
May you like
leaving me breathless.
I looked back one last time and saw Lorenzo Rossi disappearing beneath a wave of masked men.
