Chapter 11 - Night of the Shattered Glass
The attack was swift and coordinated. The power to the house cut out instantly, plunging the study into pitch blackness, saved only by the moonlight filtering through the windows.
"Get down!" Dante roared, throwing his body over Mara as a hail of bullets shattered the study window, showering them in glass shards.
Mara’s heart hammered against her ribs, but her mind functioned with surprising clarity. Lena.
"Lena’s room!" Mara gasped, choking on the dust rising from the drywall.
Dante didn't hesitate. He pulled a heavy semi-automatic pistol from a hidden compartment under the desk—a weapon he had swore he would never chamber a round into again. He pulled the slide back with a sharp, lethal click. "Stay behind me. Stay low."
They crawled out of the study and into the hallway. The house was filled with the sound of shouting, heavy boots, and the deafening cracks of gunfire from the front yard where Dante’s security detail was engaging the intruders.
A shadow loomed at the top of the stairs—a man holding an assault rifle. Before the man could raise the weapon, Dante fired two precise shots. The man crumpled, tumbling down the stairs. Mara flinched, but she didn't stop. The baker who had once thrown a mixer in self-defense was gone; now, she was a mother fighting for her child.
They burst into Lena’s room. The room was empty. The window was open, the white curtains billowing violently in the night wind.
"No, no, no!" Mara screamed, rushing to the window.
Outside, in the driveway, a silver sedan was speeding away, its tires screeching against the gravel. In the backseat, through the tinted glass, Mara caught a fleeting glimpse of a small, terrified face pressed against the window.
"They took her," Mara whispered, falling to her knees on the floor littered with Lena’s drawings. "Dante, they took her."
Dante stood by the window, his face completely devoid of emotion. The anger was gone, replaced by a cold, terrifying emptiness. The Don had fully returned. He reached down, picked up a discarded drawing of a dragon Lena had made, folded it carefully, and placed it in his breast pocket.
"Valentin!" Dante shouted into the hallway.
His lieutenant appeared at the door, bleeding from a graze on his shoulder. "Boss. We eliminated four of them, but a second team hit the back perimeter. It was a distraction."
"Call everyone," Dante ordered, his voice dangerously calm. "Every soldier, every informant, every crooked cop who still owes me a favor. Tell them the Don is coming back to the city. And tell them that if anyone stands in my way, I will not leave a single stone standing."
Mara stood up, wiping the tears from her face. Her hands were covered in dust and a small cut from the shattered glass, but her gaze was fierce. "I’m coming with you."
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Dante turned to her, his voice softening just a fraction. "Mara, it’s going to be a bloodbath. You don't belong there."
"She is my daughter too, Dante," Mara said, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "You said we don't use their rules. You’re going to need someone to remind you who you are when you’re standing in the dark. I’m coming."
