Chapter 9 - The Ambush at the Mansion
The smoke was thick,
smelling of sulfur and burning chemicals.
I moved through the hallways with the practiced grace of a hunter,
my eyes scanning for the red dots of laser sights.
Marcus had hired professionals—
mercenaries who didn't care about the Moretti name.
They were in the foyer,
exchanging fire with my guards.
I saw Tony near the nursery door,
his shoulder bleeding,
but his gun was steady.
"They're trying to get to the girl!"
he shouted over the roar of the gunfire.
I felt a cold,
sharp fury settle in my chest.
This wasn't business anymore.
This was personal.
I flanked the attackers,
coming out of the dining room like a ghost.
I took down the first two before they even saw me.
The third turned,
his rifle raised,
but I was faster.
I didn't stop until the foyer was silent,
the only sound the ringing in my ears and the hiss of the smoke.
I ran to the nursery.
The door was kicked in.
My heart stopped.
Lily was huddled in the corner,
Isabella standing in front of her with a heavy silver lamp in her hands.
Marcus was there,
his gun pointed at Isabella’s head.
He was disheveled,
his eyes wild with desperation.
"You took everything from me,
Alessandro!"
he screamed.
"My baby,
my woman,
my reputation!"
"Now I'm taking yours!"
I stepped into the room,
my gun lowered but ready.
"Marcus,
look at me,"
I said,
my voice calm.
"You don't want to do this."
"You do this,
and there isn't a hole in the world deep enough to hide you."
"I'm already dead!"
he laughed,
the sound jagged and broken.
"But I'm taking her with me!"
He started to pull the trigger.
Lily screamed.
Isabella lunged forward,
not with the lamp,
but with a small,
concealed knife she had hidden in her dress.
The knife she had used to cut bandages in the basement eight years ago.
She caught him in the arm,
his shot going wild,
shattering the handcrafted crib.
I didn't give him a second chance.
I fired once.
The bullet hit him in the chest,
and he fell back against the pink walls,
his blood staining the carpet.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Lily ran to me,
sobbing,
and I picked her up,
holding her so tight she could barely breathe.
Isabella stood over Marcus’s body,
the knife still in her hand,
her face a mask of iron.
She looked at me,
and I saw the woman I had fallen in love with in that basement.
The woman who would do anything to protect what was hers.
"Is it over?"
she asked.
"It's over,"
I said.
May you like
But we both knew that in New York,
it was never truly over.
