Chapter 10
The deafening wail of the perimeter alarms echoed through the sprawling corridors of the Whitestone mansion, a mechanical scream signaling the arrival of the Ward family's army. The heavy thud of distant explosions rattled the crystal chandeliers in the nearby rooms, and the staccato rhythm of automatic gunfire immediately followed, erupting from the front gates.
Callum did not flinch. His broad shoulders instantly squared, his posture transforming back into that of a wartime general. He pulled his hands gently from Nessa’s grasp, the last remnants of blood wiped clean from his knuckles.
“Is Marcus holding the main gates?” Callum asked into the encrypted radio clipped to his belt.
“They breached the outer wall, Boss!” Marcus’s voice roared over the static and gunfire. “They brought heavy ordinance! We are falling back to the mansion doors! We need you up here!”
“Do you believe they can break the reinforced doors before the police sirens arrive?” Callum inquired, his voice perfectly measured, entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding outside.
“They have shaped charges, Callum! They don't care about the cops, they only care about getting Juliette back!” Marcus yelled.
Callum unclipped the radio, his jaw settling into a firm, uncompromising line. He turned his cold, watchful eyes back to Nessa, who was standing frozen by the marble island, her hands gripping the damp cloth tightly against her white apron.
“Will you take Ellis to the panic room in the west wing immediately?” Callum asked, his deep voice cutting through her terror like a stabilizing anchor.
“Yes, Mr. Whitestone,” Nessa breathed, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She took a step toward the servant's stairwell, then stopped, turning back to look at him. “What are you going to do?”
“Do you think I would hide in a panic room while my enemies stand on my front lawn?” Callum asked, reaching beneath the counter to retrieve a heavy, tactical shotgun hidden in a biometric safe. He racked the slide with a terrifying, metallic clack.
“They have an army out there,” Nessa whispered, tears gathering along her lower eyelids once more. “You could die.”
“Have many men tried and failed to accomplish exactly that?” Callum asked, stepping closer to her.
He looked down at her softly rounded face, the delicate cheekbones framed by the loose, dark twist of her hair. The gunfire outside was growing louder, the fighting moving closer to the main house. Time was rapidly running out, yet Callum stood in the kitchen as if they were the only two people left in the world.
He reached out, his tattooed hand gently cupping the side of her face. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone, a gesture of profound, unspoken protectiveness that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Will you wait for me when the smoke clears, Nessa?” Callum asked, his voice dropping to a low, incredibly intimate whisper.
Nessa looked up into his eyes, seeing past the cold, ruthless exterior of the mafia boss, seeing the man who had burned his own life to the ground to protect a child. The danger surrounding them was absolute, but the safety she felt in his presence was undeniable.
“I will wait for you,” Nessa promised, placing her hand gently over his.
“Are you ready for what comes next?” Callum asked, offering a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
May you like
He didn't wait for her answer. Callum turned his broad shoulders, gripping the heavy weapon, and strode out of the kitchen, walking straight toward the deafening roar of the gunfire to defend his home, his son, and the woman he had just promised to return to.
Nessa watched him disappear into the shadows of the grand hallway, the sounds of the mafia war tearing the night apart, as she turned and ran to save the boy.
