Chapter 4 - Shattered Glass
The explosive shockwave rattled the concrete pillars of the underground garage, sending a cascade of shattered glass raining down over Claire’s sedan. Vincent reacted with instantaneous, predatory instinct. Dropping his attempt to grab the keys, he lunged halfway into the driver's window, shielding Claire’s body with his massive, muscular frame just as a second concussive blast shook the foundations of the estate.
"Get down!" Vincent barked, his voice vibrating with raw intensity.
Claire struggled beneath him, pushing against his chest with all her remaining strength. "Get off me, Vincent! Don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with exhaustion and adrenaline. Her primary focus wasn't the explosion; it was protecting Emma in the back seat.
In the rear, little Emma shrieked in terror, burying her face in her floral pajamas and clutching her scruffy stuffed rabbit as dust and debris filled the cabin.
Vincent ignored Claire's resistance. He shifted his weight, opening the driver's door fully and reaching into the back seat to scoop Emma into his arms. The child whimpered, burning with fever, but Vincent cradled her securely against his broad chest, his tattooed hands surprisingly gentle as he pressed her bandaged forehead against his shoulder.
"Dad... it hurts..." Emma whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.
Vincent’s jaw tightened. The cold, unfeeling mafia boss facade melted away for a fraction of a second, replaced by a terrifying surge of paternal fury. He turned his piercing blue-gray eyes toward Claire, who had scrambled out of the car, her white lace nightgown dusty and stained.
"They aren't just after me," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register. "The Syndicate traced Sophia’s distress call right to our front door. They used her as bait to draw my security detail away from the perimeter."
Claire stopped dead in her tracks. The anger in her chest momentarily froze, replaced by a chilling realization. "Bait? You mean... Sophia wasn't just calling for help?"
"No," Vincent said grimly, carrying Emma back toward the secure elevator core. "She walked right into a trap, and now they've locked down every exit within a five-mile radius."
Claire followed them closely, her protective instincts overriding her desire to flee. She reached out and took Emma’s small, burning hand, squeezing it tightly as Vincent punched a manual override code into the reinforced elevator keypad.
The heavy steel doors slid open, revealing not an empty car, but a team of three loyal Moretti bodyguards standing inside with assault rifles raised, waiting for their boss.
May you like
"Boss, the main gates are completely compromised. Heavy ordnance," reported Garrett, the head of security, his face bleeding from a shrapnel cut. "We have to move through the subterranean drainage tunnels beneath the wine cellar if we want to make it to the safehouse."
Vincent stepped into the elevator, holding Emma securely, while Claire stepped in right beside them. As the doors began to close, sealing them in the small metal box, the overhead security monitor flickered back to life, displaying live footage of the front gates being blown wide open—and a familiar blonde woman stepping out of the smoke, uninjured and flanked by armed mercenaries.
