Chapter 4 - The Ambush at the Gate
Night fell quickly over the Westchester hills, bringing with it a thick, creeping fog that swallowed the stone walls of the Moretti estate.
Down in the main library, I sat on the leather sofa with my leg elevated, watching Noah read a book about dinosaurs. Scout was asleep on a pillow beside the grand fireplace. The mansion was eerily quiet. Mario, Dominic’s head of security—a heavily built man with a scar running across his chin—was patrolling the outer gardens with three armed guards.
At 9:15 p.m., the lights inside the house flickered once, twice, and then went completely dark.
The heavy roar of the backup generators failed to kick in.
In the sudden blackness, only the red emergency lights along the hallway baseboards glowed.
Scout immediately stood up, his fur bristling along his spine, a low, ominous growl vibrating in his chest.
"Grace?" Noah whimpered in the dark, dropping his book. "Why did the lights go out?"
"Stay calm, Noah," I said, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached out, pulling Noah close to my side, grabbing the silver key Dominic had given me. "It's just a power glitch. Remember what your dad told us?"
Suddenly, the muffled sound of silenced gunfire echoed from the outer driveway—thwip, thwip, thwip—followed by the heavy thump of something hitting the gravel.
My blood ran cold. Mario and the security guards had been taken down.
"Grace! The key!" Noah gasped, clutching my sweater.
"I have it," I whispered.
I dragged my splinted leg off the sofa, wincing as sharp pain shot up my calf, and pulled Noah toward the heavy mahogany bookshelf at the back of the library. I felt along the edge of the carved wood until my fingers found the small silver keyhole hidden beneath a decorative shield.
I inserted the key and turned it.
A heavy mechanical click echoed in the room, and a section of the library wall slid open smoothly, revealing a reinforced, lit panic room equipped with monitors, supplies, and a private landline.
"Get inside, Noah. Take Scout," I ordered, shoving the little boy gently into the doorway.
"What about you?"
"I'm right behind you—"
"I wouldn't step inside if I were you, Miss Miller," a sharp, venomous voice cut through the darkness of the library.
A flashlight beam snapped on, blinding me.
Standing near the library entry doors was Vanessa Whitmore. She was wearing a dark trench coat, a small silver handgun held steadily in her right hand. Behind her stood two men in dark tactical gear, carrying suppressed submachine guns.
Vanessa stepped into the room, her designer boots clicking against the hardwood floor. Her face was distorted with a chilling, unhinged rage.
"Look at you," Vanessa sneered, sweeping the flashlight beam over my splinted leg and my simple clothes. "A pathetic, penniless orphan playing house with a crime boss's son. You ruined my life, Grace."
"Vanessa, put the gun down," I said, stepping in front of the panic room opening, using my body to completely block Noah from her view. "Dominic will kill you for this. You know what he is."
"Dominic is currently trapped at the Hudson shipping terminal dealing with federal agents my father sent to arrest him!" Vanessa laughed, a bitter, hysterical sound. "By the time he figures out it was a diversion, it will be far too late. My father’s men are going to burn this mansion to the ground, and everyone inside will be listed as tragic collateral in an ongoing syndicate war."
She raised the handgun, aiming it directly at my chest.
"Move away from the door, Grace. I want to see the boy."
"No," I said, my voice remarkably steady despite the terror threatening to consume me.
"I said move!" Vanessa hissed, stepping closer, resting the cold steel barrel of the gun against the center of my forehead. "You think you're a hero because you jumped in front of a truck? Let's see how brave you are when I blow your brains across this carpet."
Behind me, inside the dark safe-room, I heard Scout growl—a deep, territorial sound.
I looked Vanessa straight in the eyes. "You don't know anything about love, Vanessa. That's why he never wanted you."
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger. "Die, you little bitch—"
BANG!
A deafening shot shattered the library glass, but it didn't come from Vanessa's gun.
The heavy mahogany doors of the library blew off their hinges as a massive shotgun blast tore through the entryway. One of the tactical guards went down instantly.
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From the smoke and shadows of the hallway, a dark figure strode into the room like an vengeful specter from the depths of hell.
It was Dominic.
