Chapter 3 - Wolves at the Iron Gate
The storm broke over the Hudson Valley at twilight, unleashing torrential rain that turned the manicured lawns of the Moretti estate into a swamp of black mud. Inside the fortified library, the air smelled of stale coffee, expensive bourbon, and the ozone tang of high-end surveillance monitors.
Norah paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, her arms crossed over her chest. "My car was parked outside my apartment in Boston two days ago. If they tagged it then, they know where my sister lives. They know my clinic."
"Your sister is already on a private jet to Zurich," Leo said calmly from behind his massive mahogany desk. He didn't look up from a tactical map spread out before him. "She has two armed guards and five hundred thousand dollars in an offshore account to cover her inconvenience. She thinks she won a luxury corporate retreat."
Norah stopped dead. Her voice trembled with fury. "You had my family touched?"
Leo finally raised his head. The shadows in the room carved his cheekbones into brutal, sharp edges. "I protected your family, Norah. In my world, an unprotected relative is leverage. If Sal Marcone grabbed your sister, you would have slipped potassium chloride into my father's IV bag by sunrise just to keep her breathing."
"I am a medical professional, not an assassin!"
"You're in my house," Leo roared, slamming his open palm onto the desk. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. "Which makes you a target! Stop thinking like a civilian. The moment you chose not to run yesterday, you crossed the Rubicon. You gave my father hope. And hope in our business is a declaration of war."
Norah swallowed the lump of fear rising in her throat. She stepped toward the desk, slamming both hands down opposite him. "Then tell me what we're facing. If I'm trapped in this fortress, I refuse to be blind."
Leo stared at her hands, inches from his own. A faint, dark amusement flickered behind his gray eyes. "Sal Marcone wants our northern shipping docks. He thought my father’s stroke was his green light to move in. For three months, he thought Vincenzo was a vegetable. But yesterday, a traitor inside this house leaked word that Vincenzo is undergoing aggressive physical rehabilitation. That he might recover."
"Who leaked it?"
"I don't know yet," Leo said, his tone chillingly flat. "Which means everyone who isn't me, my father, or you is a suspect."
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
A low, vibrating *thump* rattled the armored windowpanes, followed immediately by the wail of the perimeter alarms. High-pitched, piercing, and terrifying.
Norah flinched, instinctively ducking.
Leo didn't flinch. In one smooth motion, he reached beneath the desk and pulled out a matte-black automatic rifle. He racked the bolt with a sharp, mechanical clack.
Dante burst through the library doors, his shirt collar unbuttoned, carrying a tactical radio that crackled with frantic shouting and gunfire. "Gate three is down! They used an armored utility truck to breach the south barrier. Eight to ten hostiles on the grounds!"
"Kill them all," Leo said without a second of hesitation. "Take one alive if you can break his jaw first. Where is my father?"
"Locked in the safe room beneath the master suite," Dante said. "Two men are with him."
"Not good enough," Leo growled. He grabbed Norah by the elbow, his grip like iron. "You're coming with me."
"I can stay here—"
"A stray grenade through that window will vaporize you, Norah," Leo snarled, dragging her out into the grand hallway.
The estate was in full combat mode. Men in tactical vests were sprinting across marble floors, their boots squeaking against the polished stone, assault rifles raised. The sound of automatic gunfire outside was deafening, muffled only slightly by the thick limestone walls of the mansion.
Norah ran alongside Leo, her heart pounding in her ears so violently she could barely hear her own breath. Adrenaline surged through her veins, masking the pain in her injured leg.
They reached the grand staircase when the glass skylight thirty feet above exploded.
Shards of reinforced glass rained down like lethal hail. Norah screamed as Leo threw his entire body weight over her, tackling her down to the carpeted stairs. He shielded her head and neck with his arms, his back taking the brunt of falling debris.
A grappling hook caught the iron railing above. A masked man dressed in urban camo dropped from the roof, his submachine gun swinging toward them.
Leo rolled off Norah, firing his sidearm from his back with terrifying speed and precision.
*Crack. Crack.*
Two rounds struck the intruder square in the chest. The man jerked backward, his weapon clattering across the stairs, and plunged over the banister, landing with a sickening crunch on the marble floor of the foyer below.
Norah choked on the smell of cordite and burning drywall. Leo rose to his knees, his face inches from hers. A thin line of blood ran down his cheek where a glass shard had sliced him, but his eyes were completely steady.
"You hit?" he demanded, his hands scanning her shoulders, her ribs, her waist with rough, clinical efficiency.
"I'm... I'm fine," she stammered, trembling uncontrollably.
May you like
Leo reached up, wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Good. Because the real fight hasn't even started."
***
