Chapter 9
Alaric’s cold, intimidating eyes narrowed instantly. The Coletti family had moved faster than anticipated, or they had possessed inside knowledge of the estate’s security grid—knowledge Bastian had undoubtedly provided them.
"Hold the assault teams," Alaric commanded Silas, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. "Reroute them to the western flank. Pin the hostiles against the perimeter wall. Do not let them advance past the gardens."
"Yes, Boss!" Silas roared into his radio, sprinting back toward the main driveway to coordinate the defense.
Alaric did not seek cover. He drew his suppressed pistol, the matte black metal absorbing the faint light from the terrace. He walked with measured, deliberate steps toward the western gardens, his deeply masculine presence projecting an aura of absolute, lethal authority.
The cinematic, bright flashes of muzzle fire suddenly strobed violently through the darkness of the meticulously landscaped gardens. The silence of the night was shattered by the deafening roar of automatic weapons as Alaric’s elite bodyguards engaged the invading Coletti soldiers.
Alaric moved through the shadows with the terrifying grace of an apex predator. He did not duck or scramble; he analyzed the chaotic battlefield with a veteran's eye.
Three Coletti soldiers, dressed in dark tactical gear, broke through the initial line of defense, sprinting toward the rear entrance of the mansion, intent on breaching the house to target Serena.
Alaric stepped out from behind a large stone fountain, placing himself directly in their path.
The lead soldier saw the towering, tailored figure of the Don and raised his assault rifle, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and adrenaline.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
Alaric fired three shots with mechanical precision. The suppressed pistol barely made a sound, but the kinetic force was devastating. All three Coletti soldiers dropped to the grass instantly, eliminated before they could fire a single round.
Alaric stepped over the bodies, his polished leather shoes crunching softly on the manicured grass. He advanced deeper into the gardens, systematically dismantling the invading force with cold, calculated efficiency.
The battle was short and brutal. The Coletti soldiers, expecting a disorganized defense, were entirely overwhelmed by the disciplined, overwhelming firepower of Alaric’s men. Within fifteen minutes, the gunfire ceased, replaced by the groans of the wounded and the sharp commands of the Capos securing the perimeter.
Silas emerged from the smoke, his face grim but victorious.
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"The western flank is secure, Boss," Silas reported, lowering his weapon. "We wiped them out. No breaches into the main house."
"Good," Alaric murmured, holstering his pistol and adjusting his suit jacket. "The Colettis threw their vanguard at us and failed. They are vulnerable."
