Chapter 4 - The Siege of Pine Crest
Lorenzo’s heart stopped. The Upstate estate. Sarah and Emma were heading straight into a trap.
Lorenzo drew his own weapon, slamming the heavy butt of the steel pistol across Marco’s temple, knocking him unconscious. He reached forward, tapped the divider, and shouted to his driver, "Rocco! Turn us around! Upstate house, now! Call Val!"
The limousine roared, flipping a sharp U-turn across three lanes of traffic, tires screaming against the asphalt.
Lorenzo dialed Val on his encrypted line. "Val! Stop the motorcade! Bianchi’s men are ambushing the Upstate property!"
Static crackled on the line. Then Val’s voice came through, panicked and breathless over the sound of automatic gunfire in the background. "Boss! We’re hit! We just crossed the estate gates—three suburban SUVs boxed us in! We’re taking heavy fire from Falcone’s mercenaries!"
"Get Emma and Sarah into the panic bunker beneath the wine cellar!" Lorenzo roared into the phone. "I’m five minutes away!"
"I'm trying, boss, but they've cut off the main entrance—!" A loud explosion echoed over the speaker, followed by dead static.
"Drive faster, Rocco!" Lorenzo yelled.
The stretch limo tore through the iron gates of the Upstate estate minutes later. The manicured lawn was littered with shattered glass and burning vehicles. Three heavy tactical vehicles belonging to the Bianchi and Falcone syndicates were parked at the front portico.
Lorenzo didn't wait for back-up. Fueled by three years of suppressed grief and a white-hot fury for the child who had briefly given him a reason to feel alive, he stepped out of the vehicle with an assault rifle pulled from the trunk stash.
He moved through the smoke like a shadow.
The front doors were blown open. Inside the grand foyer, four armed mercenaries were advancing toward the basement stairs. Lorenzo fired with surgical, brutal precision. Three fell before they could turn; the fourth was dropped with a single shot to the throat.
Lorenzo sprinted down the marble stairs toward the wine cellar.
The door to the secure room was battered, but holding. Outside it stood Don Vittorio Bianchi himself, flanked by two heavy enforcers trying to set breaching charges.
"Bianchi!" Lorenzo’s voice echoed like thunder in the subterranean corridor.
Vittorio turned, panic flashing in his eyes as he raised his sidearm. Lorenzo fired twice. The enforcers dropped instantly. Lorenzo walked up to the wounded Don Vittorio, who was slumped against the reinforced steel door, bleeding from his shoulder.
Lorenzo pressed the warm barrel of his rifle against Vittorio’s forehead.
"Marco set this up," Vittorio sobbed, begging for his life. "He told us you were compromised! He promised us the Duca empire and the secret offshore accounts if we eliminated the maid and the kid who found the papers! Please, Lorenzo—it was Marco’s idea!"
"I know," Lorenzo whispered cold as ice.
He didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he struck Vittorio with the stock of the rifle, knocking him out cold, saving him for the federal prosecutors.
Lorenzo turned to the steel door and knocked three times—their secret code. "Sarah! Emma! It's safe. It's Lorenzo."
The heavy vault wheel turned. The heavy steel door swung open. Sarah was clutching a heavy iron candleholder, weeping, while Emma stood behind her, holding her box of crayons tightly against her chest.
When Emma saw Lorenzo, she dropped her crayons and ran, wrapping her small arms around his waist.
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"I knew my borrowed daddy would come," she whimpered.
Lorenzo dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms tightly around the little girl, burying his face in her hair as tears finally broke through his icy facade.
