Chapter 27
The Commission soldiers in the east wing were caught entirely by surprise. Raffaele descended upon them with the unhinged, apocalyptic fury of a father defending his bloodline. He didn't just shoot; he moved in close, utilizing the immense, deeply masculine power of his core to physically dismantle the invaders.
He drove the butt of his rifle into a mercenary's face, shattering his visor, before drawing his suppressed sidearm and executing two more hostiles at point-blank range. The sheer, overwhelming violence he exuded paralyzed the remaining attackers. They broke rank and tried to flee, but Raffaele hunted them down without a shred of mercy, leaving a trail of bodies in the pristine hallway.
Breathing heavily, Raffaele quickly reloaded his weapons. He sprinted up the secondary stairs, bursting into the secure nursery wing.
Margaret was standing in front of the heavy steel panic door, gripping a heavy iron fireplace poker, her fair face pale but fiercely resolute.
"Are they inside?" Raffaele demanded, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.
"He is safe in the vault, Mr. Marconi," Margaret promised, her hands shaking slightly. "No one came up here."
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Raffaele exhaled a long, shuddering breath. "The invasion is broken. They tried to flank us with a traitor, but they failed. Stay here until I give the all-clear."
He turned and walked back down the stairs. The defense of the estate was successful, but Raffaele knew that simply surviving was not enough. To truly protect his son, he had to cut the head off the snake. Don Salvatore had to die.
