Chapter 7
"Boss!" Marcus’s frantic voice crackled back over the speaker. "It's a coordinated breach! The Voss syndicate sent a heavy assault team! They rammed the eastern service gates with an armored truck. We have multiple hostiles in the gardens, moving toward the main house!"
Arthur Voss had not waited. The broken engagement had ignited the powder keg, and the enemy was already at the door.
"Are the interior blast doors engaged?" Lucian asked, remaining terrifyingly calm despite the adrenaline surging through his veins.
"Engaging now, sir! But they have heavy explosives. We are returning fire, but they are pushing hard toward the guest wing!"
Celina had indeed shared the layout. They were going after Beatrice.
"Will you hold the main hall until I arrive?" Lucian asked.
"We will hold the line, Mr. Ashford!"
Lucian released the intercom button. He reached under his desk, his tattooed hands moving with practiced, lethal precision, and pulled out a heavy, customized automatic weapon. He racked the slide, the metallic clack echoing sharply in the red-lit room.
He turned and looked at Della. She was backed against the wall, her expressive eyes wide with fear, yet entirely resolute. She was not running.
"Are you prepared to lock this door behind me?" Lucian asked, walking toward her.
"I have to get to Beatrice!" Della cried out, panic finally lacing her American accent. "They are going toward her wing!"
"Will you survive running through a crossfire in the main hallway?" Lucian asked bluntly, his imposing masculine frame blocking the exit.
"I can't just leave her alone in the dark, Lucian!" Della pleaded, her hands trembling. "She will be terrified!"
Lucian stared at the beautiful woman before him. She possessed a profound, quiet courage that completely eclipsed the shallow, venomous nature of the elites he normally dealt with. She was willing to run into a gunfight for an elderly woman who was not her blood.
"Are you willing to follow my exact orders if I take you with me?" Lucian asked, his cold eyes burning with a fierce, protective fire.
"Yes," Della promised without hesitation.
"Shall we go get my mother?" Lucian asked.
He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed her hand, his warm, tattooed fingers wrapping securely around her delicate wrist, and pulled her out of the study into the chaotic, flashing hallway.
The bright, luminous colors of the mansion were gone, replaced by the chaotic strobe of emergency lights and the deafening, rhythmic staccato of heavy gunfire echoing from the eastern wing. The smell of cordite and burning wood filled the air.
Lucian moved with absolute, predatory grace. He kept Della tucked safely behind his powerful shoulders, his weapon raised, his observant eyes sweeping every corner and gilded mirror for threats. They navigated the marble corridors, the sound of combat growing louder with every step.
As they reached the heavy oak doors separating the main house from the guest wing, a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the estate.
The shockwave threw them both against the carved walnut paneling. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. The heavy oak doors were blown entirely off their hinges in a blinding flash of orange fire.
"Are you injured?" Lucian shouted over the ringing in their ears, pulling Della back to her feet.
"I'm okay!" Della gasped, coughing through the thick smoke.
Through the ruined doorway, the bright tactical lights of three heavily armed mercenaries pierced the darkness. They were moving aggressively down the corridor, aiming their assault rifles directly at the door to Beatrice's suite.
"Did you forget whose house you entered?" Lucian asked the empty air.
He stepped out from cover, pulling Della tightly against his side. The roar of his weapon was deafening in the enclosed space. The first mercenary collapsed backward into the smoke, his chest armor shattered. The other two spun toward the sound of Lucian's fire, but the mafia boss was already moving.
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Two precise, measured shots echoed through the hall. The remaining two men crumpled to the thick patterned rug, their weapons clattering against the polished floor.
Lucian did not pause. He pushed through the smoke, hauling Della with him, and kicked open the door to Beatrice's suite.
