Chapter 5 - Fire on the Hudson
"Stay down!" Vincent roared over the deafening noise of shattering glass and automatic rifle fire.
He reached under the bed frame, pulling out a heavy tactical assault rifle stored in a hidden magnetic rack. Within seconds, he racked the bolt back, his dark eyes ablaze with an incredible, lethal focus.
"Get into the vault and lock it from the inside!" he commanded, pulling me up by my arm and shoving me toward the heavy steel door where the girls were crying out in terror.
"Vincent, no! You can't go out there alone!" I screamed over the wail of the alarms.
"I'm not alone, I have forty armed guards on this estate," he growled, grabbing my face with his large hand, his thumb pressing firmly against my chin to force me to look at him. "Listen to me, Elise! Punch the code—4092—into the inner panel. The door will seal magnetically. Do not open it for anyone except me. Do you understand me?"
"Yes!" I sobbed, tears cutting through the dust on my face.
"Good girl," he whispered fiercely. He pressed his lips briefly, intensely against my forehead before spinning around and firing a controlled three-round burst through the broken window, driving back the attackers on the balcony outside.
I dove into the safe room, pulled the heavy steel door shut, and slammed my hand against the digital keypad. The magnetic locks engaged with a heavy, booming metallic thud, sealing us off from the roaring chaos outside.
Inside the vault, the sounds of battle were muffled, sounding like distant thunder against a thick wall. Maisie and Rosie were huddled together in the corner, sobbing violently, their hands pressed over their ears.
I scrambled across the floor, wrapping my arms tightly around both girls, pulling them into my lap.
"Shh, it's okay, my angels, it's okay," I whispered, tears streaming down my face as I rocked them back and forth. "Papa is taking care of it. Papa is very strong."
"I want Papa!" Rosie wailed into my shoulder.
"He's coming back," I promised them, though my own heart was breaking with a terrifying fear. "He promised he would come back, and Papa never breaks his promises."
For forty-five agonizing minutes, we sat in the dim light of the vault, listening to the dull thuds of explosions and gunfire echoing through the estate's reinforced structure. Every minute felt like a year. I prayed as I had never prayed before—not for my own safety, but for the dark, tormented man outside who was fighting to protect the only world he had left.
Finally, the distant thuds ceased.
Ten minutes of absolute, terrifying silence followed.
Then, the digital keypad on the outside of the vault beeped. The heavy magnetic locks disengaged one by one with a series of sharp hydraulic clicks.
The steel door swung open.
Vincent stood in the doorway, framed by the smoke pouring through the master bedroom. His face was covered in soot and blood, his shirt torn at the chest, but he was standing tall. Behind him, Vince and three other bloody enforcers held the hallway secured.
Vincent looked into the vault. When his eyes found me holding his daughters unharmed, he let out a long, shuddering breath, dropping his tactical rifle to the floor.
He fell to his knees in the doorway, reaching out his arms.
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"Papa!" both girls screamed, launching themselves out of my lap and throwing their tiny arms around his neck.
Vincent wrapped his massive arms around his daughters, burying his face in their soft hair, his broad shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelmed sobs. I sat on the carpet, watching the powerful mafia kingpin hold his world together in the middle of the smoke, weeping openly with relief.
