Chapter 11
The blaring sirens shattered the pristine, cinematic quiet of the Caruso estate. The bright, natural light filtering through the massive windows suddenly felt exposing, highlighting the vulnerability of the sprawling mansion. Vincent did not panic. He adjusted his grip on Evelyn, holding her frail body securely against his crisp white shirt. The lethal, terrifying calm of the Mafia boss instantly overrode any shock.
"Silas," Vincent commanded, speaking into the encrypted comms unit clipped to his belt. "Report."
"Multiple breaches at the perimeter, Boss," Silas's voice crackled through the earpiece, punctuated by the distant, sharp cracks of automatic gunfire. "It's a highly coordinated assault. Heavy armor. They bypassed the outer gates using military-grade explosives. The New York Commission didn't send a hit squad; they sent a small army."
"They knew Marco missed his check-in," Vincent deduced rapidly, his mind operating with flawless, tactical precision. "They knew the secret was out. Fall back to the interior defensive line. No one breaches the main house."
"Understood, Boss. We're holding the choke points."
Vincent turned and sprinted down the grand hallway, carrying Evelyn with effortless, deeply masculine strength. He bypassed the main staircase, heading directly for the secure east wing where Clara had been taken.
"Vincent, put me down. I can run," Evelyn rasped, her pale hands clutching his shoulders.
"You haven't walked more than ten feet in four years, Evelyn," Vincent replied softly, his American accent steady and grounding. "Save your strength. I've got you."
He reached the heavy, reinforced steel doors of the playroom. The four massive bodyguards stood outside, their weapons drawn, their fair, rosy faces set in grim determination.
"Open it," Vincent ordered.
May you like
The lead guard rapidly entered the biometric code. The heavy door hissed open. Vincent stepped inside the bright, toy-filled room. Clara was sitting on a plush rug, looking terrified, clutching a stuffed bear. When she saw her father, her blue eyes widened with relief. And then, she saw the woman in his arms.
"Daddy?" Clara whispered, standing up slowly. "Is that... the lady from the painting?"
