Chapter 7 - Siege on East Elm
The sharp, acrid smell of gunpowder and shattered plaster filled the air, cutting through the sweet aroma of cinnamon and warm butter.
"Papa!" Sophia screamed, her hands covering her ears as another volley of gunfire shattered the upper hallway mirrors.
"Stay down! Both of you!" Alaric commanded.
He pulled a sleek, matte-black semi-automatic pistol from a hidden shoulder holster beneath his sweater. His face was entirely transformed—the gentle father was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating predator whose eyes held zero mercy.
Franco kicked the heavy kitchen doors open, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead, holding a submachine gun.
"Boss! It's the Morettis!" Franco yelled over the sound of breaking glass and shouting men. "They breached the East Elm gate with a garbage truck! They've got ten men inside the courtyard!"
"How did they get past the outer security grid?" Alaric demanded, his voice chillingly calm as he checked the magazine on his weapon.
"Inside leak," Franco spit on the floor. "The gaunt guy—Santino. He turned. He gave them the security codes."
Alaric's jaw tightened until the muscles worked beneath his skin. "Get Sophia to the panic room in the cellar. Now."
"No!" Sophia sobbed, clutching Alaric’s sweater with hysterical strength. "Papa, don't leave me! Don't go!"
"Sophia, listen to me," Alaric said, dropping his gun for a fraction of a second to grab her face between his hands. "You go with Mia and Franco. I will clear this house. I promise you, on my life, I will come down to that room when it's over."
He looked up at me, his silver eyes burning with a ferocious, desperate intensity.
"Mia," he said, his voice raw. "Keep her safe. If anyone comes through that cellar door who isn't me or Franco... you use the iron bar on the inside latch. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you," I whispered, my heart slamming against my throat. "Alaric... don't die."
He gave me a single, fierce nod, squeezed my hand, and stood up, stepping out into the smoke-filled hallway with Franco, his gun raised.
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"Move!" Franco barked at me, pointing toward the heavy steel pantry door at the back of the kitchen.
I grabbed Sophia, lifting her small body into my arms despite the aching throbbing in my lower back, and sprinted through the smoke toward the hidden subterranean stairs.
