Chapter 4 - THE BREACH
The attack came on a Tuesday night, during the worst nor'easter the island had seen in three years.
The power went out at 11:14 PM.
The estate’s massive backup generators kicked in within four seconds, but those four seconds of absolute darkness were all the Moretti remnants needed to cut through the perimeter fence near the cliffs. They didn't come for money. They didn't come for revenge against Lorenzo.
They came to kill the heir.
Hunter was awake, rocking Leo through the thunder, when the first distant pop-pop-pop of suppressed gunfire echoed from the lower levels. The house’s alarm system didn't sound—the wires had been cut from the outside—but the sudden, frantic shouting of men in the hallway was enough.
"Lock the door!" a voice roared from outside the nursery. It was Lorenzo.
Before Hunter could move, the heavy oak door blew inward with a deafening crack. A flash-bang grenade bounced across the wool rug, exploding in a blinding white light and a roar that shook the plaster from the ceiling.
Hunter didn't scream. Her maternal instinct, sharpened by weeks of vigilance, took over before her senses could recover. She threw herself out of the rocking chair, rolling onto the floor and tucking Leo beneath her body, using her own back and shoulders as a shield against the flying glass and shrapnel.
Through the smoke, a man in a black tactical mask stepped into the room, his submachine gun raised, searching the crib for the target.
Bang.
The man’s chest exploded outward, a spray of red painting the clouds on the ceiling. He fell backward, his weapon clattering across the floor.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway. He was bleeding from a deep gash on his temple, his shirt torn open, holding a heavy chrome revolver in both hands. His face wasn't human anymore; it was the face of a demon that had climbed out of the dirt to protect its bloodline.
"Hunter!" he roared through the smoke, his eyes scanning the floor until he saw her small form curled around the baby. "Are you hit?"
"No!" she choked out, coughing through the sulfur smoke. "Leo is safe! He's safe!"
Another man appeared behind Lorenzo in the hall, a long hunting knife raised to strike. Lorenzo didn't even turn around; he simply brought his left elbow back with a sickening crunch into the attacker's throat, then fired a round through the man's jaw without looking.
The Flight to the Vault"Get up," Lorenzo ordered, grabbing Hunter by the arm and pulling her to her feet with terrifying strength. He didn't let go of her. He kept his body between her and the hallway, his eyes scanning the shadows as they moved down the corridor.
The house was a war zone. The beautiful marble floors were slick with blood and spent brass casings. Two of Lorenzo’s personal guards lay dead near the elevator, their suits ruined by gunfire.
"They had inside information," Lorenzo hissed as he guided them toward a hidden panel behind a large tapestry of Saint Michael. "They knew the generator schedule. They knew where the nursery was."
He shoved the panel open, revealing a narrow, concrete staircase that led straight down into the bedrock beneath the house.
"Go down," Lorenzo said, shoving the chrome revolver into Hunter’s hand. "There’s a steel door at the bottom. It has a biometric lock. Press your palm against it—I programmed your print into the system last week. Stay inside until I come for you."
Hunter looked at the gun in her hand. It was heavy, cold, and smelled of death. "What about you?"
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Lorenzo looked back toward the hallway, where the sound of more boots was approaching. A cold, feral smile broke through the blood on his face.
"I have some housekeeping to do," he said.
