Chapter 8
Roman walked purposefully toward a massive mahogany bookshelf on the far wall. He reached behind a leather-bound volume and pressed a hidden mechanism. With a soft, hydraulic hiss, the bookshelf slid open, revealing a hidden, walk-in armory bathed in stark white light. Racks of automatic weapons, tactical gear, and loaded magazines lined the walls.
"Roman," Nora said, her voice echoing softly in the large room. "What are you going to do?"
Roman grabbed a matte-black assault rifle from the rack, pulling the charging handle back with a sharp, metallic clack that sounded incredibly loud in the quiet suite. He slung the weapon over his shoulder and turned back to face her.
"I am going to eradicate them," Roman stated. He spoke slowly, the controlled pauses emphasizing his absolute certainty. "Every Petrov soldier. Every lieutenant. Every safe house. By sunrise, their syndicate will be nothing but ash."
"You're going out there yourself?" Nora asked, her heart hammering with renewed fear. She stepped closer to the hidden armory, keeping Sophie safely behind her. "You're the Boss, Roman. Send your men! If they kill you tonight, Sophie and I..."
"They will not kill me," Roman interrupted gently, walking back over to them. He looked down at the two women who anchored his entire soul. "I have something to live for now."
He reached down and gently cupped Sophie’s rosy cheek. "Be a good, brave girl for your mother, little bird. I will be back before you wake up."
"Okay, Daddy," Sophie whispered, her blue eyes wide, staring at the heavy weapon slung across his tailored suit.
Roman stood up and looked at Nora. "Lock the heavy doors. Do not open them for anyone except Marcus. If the building is breached, there is a panic room behind the master closet in my quarters. Wait for me there."
Before Nora could respond, the heavy double doors of the office swung open. Marcus stood in the threshold, his face pale, holding an encrypted tablet.
"Boss," Marcus said, his voice tense. "You need to see this. We just pulled the security feed from the front gates."
Roman walked quickly to the door, taking the tablet from his capo. The bright, cinematic colors of the video feed showed the long, winding driveway leading up to the estate.
Five unmarked black tactical vans were idling just beyond the wrought-iron gates. Heavily armed men were piling out of the vehicles, moving with military precision.
"They didn't go to the apartment," Roman whispered, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
"They knew they missed their window," Marcus confirmed grimly. "The Petrovs brought the hit squad straight here. They know we have them."
Roman’s eyes went completely cold. The intimidating, sharp danger in his gaze flared into an inferno. The war hadn't waited for him to mobilize. It had arrived at his front door.
"Hold the line," Roman commanded, handing the tablet back to Marcus. "Tell the perimeter guards to fall back to the main house. Let them onto the grounds."
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"Let them in, Boss?" Marcus asked, shocked by the tactical order.
"If we fight them at the gates, they can retreat," Roman explained, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "I want them trapped inside the courtyard. Once they cross the threshold, lock the gates behind them. No one leaves."
