Chapter 5 - The Siege of the Duca Estate
The second-floor hallway was shadowed and quiet, save for the rhythmic pulsing of the red emergency lights. Lorenzo and Jeppe moved with tactical precision, hugging the shadowed paneling of the walls, their boots silent against the thick carpet.
From the grand staircase below, harsh whispers echoed up into the open foyer.
"Clear the second floor. Boss wants the girl alive, but anyone else—clean slate. Leave no survivors."
Lorenzo recognized that voice instantly.
It belonged to Marco Vance—no relation to Lorenzo, but a ruthless former captain of the Duca Syndicate who had mysteriously vanished six months ago after embezzling millions from the shipping ports.
Marco.
The traitor had survived by selling intelligence to a rival faction—or worse, to the remnants of the Falcone loyalists hiding in the corporate shadows. Marco knew every security blind spot, every hidden entrance, and every passcode in the mansion.
"Jeppe," Lorenzo whispered, signaling with two fingers. "Flank them from the library corridor. I'll take the main staircase."
"Be careful, Boss," Jeppe murmured before melting into the shadows of the cross-hallway.
Lorenzo stepped out onto the open balcony overlooking the grand foyer. Below him, four men in tactical gear were sweeping through the ground floor, their rifle flashlights cutting through the gloom.
Without hesitation, Lorenzo raised his Beretta and fired.
Pfft. Pfft.
Two suppressors sighed in unison. The lead mercenary dropped instantly, a clean round through his ceramic plate carrier.
"Contact! Second floor balcony!" someone shouted.
Chaos erupted. Automatic gunfire chewed into the wooden banisters, sending splinters and drywall raining down like confetti. Lorenzo dropped flat onto the polished wood, rolling behind a marble pillar as bullets sparked off the stone.
From the left flank, Jeppe opened fire from the library doorway, catching two more mercenaries in the legs and sending them crashing to the floor.
"Marco!" Lorenzo roared over the deafening clatter of gunfire, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "Show your face, you coward!"
From behind the grand marble fireplace downstairs, a tall figure stepped out, lowering his rifle. Marco Vance smiled, his face scarred and twisted with bitter resentment, clapping his hands slowly.
"Impressive, Lorenzo," Marco called out, his voice dripping with venom. "Always the invincible king. But you're slipping. You spent six years weeping over a ghost, and now you're playing house with a maid's brat."
Lorenzo’s grip on his pistol tightened so hard his wrist throbbed. "She's my daughter, Marco."
"I know," Marco grinned maliciously, pulling out a small electronic detonator from his tactical vest. "And that makes her the ultimate leverage. The Board wants the Duca empire dismantled. If I can't take your throne, Lorenzo, I'll burn your bloodline to ash—just like you did to mine."
Marco pressed the button on the detonator.
BOOM!
A muffled explosion rocked the west wing of the mansion, blowing out the reinforced windows of the second-floor nursery and sending a shockwave rippling through the floorboards.
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Lorenzo didn't hesitate. Fueled by a primal, terrifying rage that eclipsed anything he had felt in twenty years, he vaulted over the balcony railing, dropping twelve feet straight down into the foyer.
He landed in a tactical roll, coming up with his weapon locked directly onto Marco’s chest.
