Chapter 6 - The Breach at the Iron Gates
"STAY HERE!" Dominic shouted to Elena, drawing his heavy matte-black semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster as he sprinted out of the room.
The house was in chaos.
Warning lights flashed red along the corridors as armed Russo guards scrambled down the grand staircase toward the foyer.
Dominic reached the second-floor balcony just as Arthur came running up the stairs, holding a tactical radio.
"What happened?!" Dominic demanded over the roaring siren.
"The south perimeter gate was blown open with thermal explosives!" Arthur yelled over the noise. "Two black SUVs just breached the driveway! They're heavily armed!"
"The Valentis?" Dominic asked, his eyes flashing with lethal intent.
"We don't know yet!" Arthur reported. "The guards at the gate were taken out with silenced weapons before the charge was detonated! They knew our security shifts!"
Dominic’s mind clicked instantly. They knew our security shifts.
Only three people had access to the master security rotation logs: Dominic, Arthur, and... Salvatore.
"Arthur!" Dominic barked, taking his strategist by the collar. "Where is Salvatore?"
Arthur blinked, realization dawning on his face like a nightmare. "He... he said he was checking the security cameras in the west wing five minutes ago..."
"Find my daughters!" Dominic ordered, shoving Arthur toward the nursery wing. "Get them into the subterranean panic room beneath my study! NOW!"
Dominic sprinted down the grand staircase toward the front entrance just as the heavy wooden double doors were shattered inward by a spray of automatic rifle fire.
Glass, wood splinters, and smoke filled the grand foyer.
Four men wearing tactical gear and black masks burst through the ruined entryway, spraying bullets up the marble staircase.
Dominic ducked behind a massive stone pillar, returning fire with lethal precision. Two shots rang out—BANG! BANG!—and two of the attackers collapsed onto the marble floor, their weapons clattering across the tile.
The remaining two attackers ducked behind the velvet sofas in the sitting room, firing blind bursts toward Dominic’s position.
"DOMINIC!" a harsh, familiar voice roared from the hallway behind the grand staircase.
Salvatore stepped out from the shadows of the dining room archway. He was holding a heavy chrome revolver, his face twisted into a grotesque, triumphant sneer. Behind him stood three senior Russo guards—men who had sworn loyalty to Salvatore over Dominic.
"Salvatore," Dominic said, his voice dropping into an icy, deathly calm as he reloaded his weapon behind the stone pillar. "You sold out your own family."
"You sold us out first, Dominic!" Salvatore screamed over the sound of alarms and rain. "You became weak! You let a Spanish maid turn you into a coward while the Valentis took our shipping lanes! The Valenti family offered me fifty percent of the Brooklyn docks if I delivered you and the federal informant hiding in your house!"
"Elena has nothing to do with this," Dominic growled.
"She’s the reason the federal prosecutor is breathing down our necks!" Salvatore countered, raising his gun. "Tonight, the Valentis take your territory, I take the family throne, and your silent little daughters go to an orphanage!"
A sudden, sharp scream echoed from the upper balcony.
Dominic’s blood ran cold.
Elena stood on the second-floor landing, holding four-year-old Mia tightly in her arms, while Lucia and Valentina hid behind her skirts.
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Standing right behind them, holding a combat knife to Elena’s throat, was Frankie—Salvatore’s loyal lieutenant.
"Drop the gun, Don Dominic!" Frankie yelled down from the balcony. "Or I cut the maid's throat in front of your kids!"
