Chapter 3 - The Broken Glass
The tranquility of the estate shattered on a rainy Thursday evening.
Vincent was in his second-floor study reviewing financial ledgers from the shipping yards when a muffled pop echoed from the eastern perimeter.
Gunfire.
In a fraction of a second, Vincent’s hand was inside his desk drawer, drawing his silver-plated 1911 pistol. The intercom buzzed frantically.
"Boss! We've got a breach!" Grant’s voice barked over the speaker. "Two armed intruders from the O’Connor crew scaled the back wall near the servant quarters! They're looking for leverage!"
Vincent’s blood turned to ice. The servant quarters.
Without a second thought, Vincent sprinted out of his study, taking the grand staircase three steps at a time. The weight of his pistol felt heavy in his hand as he burst through the heavy oak doors leading to the east wing.
Glass shattered down the hall.
Through the pouring rain and broken windowpanes of the ground-floor corridor, a masked intruder had kicked open the door to Claire’s quarters. Claire stood in front of Rosie, her arms spread wide, shielding her daughter with her own body while a tall man in a leather jacket leveled a silenced pistol at her chest.
"Move aside, bitch," the intruder hissed. "The boss wants a message sent to Romano. Anyone breathing under this roof is fair game."
"Please," Claire sobbed, her voice trembling violently. "Take whatever you want, just leave her alone!"
"Shut your—"
Bang.
The intruder never finished his sentence. A single bullet fired with terrifying precision pierced his shoulder, spinning him violently against the wall. His pistol clattered to the hardwood floor.
Vincent stepped into the hallway, the barrel of his gun still smoking, his face carved from cold stone. The second intruder spun around, drawing a knife, but before he could lunge, Grant Keller tackled him from behind, driving his head into the floorboards with a sickening crunch.
Silence descended upon the corridor, broken only by the sound of heavy rain and Rosie’s terrified sobbing.
Vincent lowered his gun, his chest heaving. He crossed the room in three strides, ignoring the bleeding intruder on the floor, and dropped to his knees in front of Claire and Rosie.
"Are you hurt?" Vincent demanded, his hands gripping Claire’s shoulders. His eyes swept over her frantically before dropping to Rosie, who was burying her face in her mother's waist.
"N-no," Claire stammered, staring at the blood pooling near the doorway. "We're... we're okay."
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Vincent let out a ragged breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He pulled Rosie gently into his arms, lifting the trembling child against his chest just as he had done with the hairbrush. Rosie wrapped her small arms around his neck, crying softly into his expensive wool suit.
"You're safe," Vincent murmured against her hair, his voice fierce and trembling with a rage that terrified even Grant Keller, who stood watching from the doorway. "No one will ever touch you here. I swear it."
