Chapter 11 - Shattered Glass
Dante ripped away from me in a fraction of a second, his lethal instincts overriding everything. His gun was drawn from his shoulder holster before my brain could even register the deafening wail of the sirens.
*"BREACH! WEST PERIMETER BREACH!"* Arthur's voice roared through the intercom system, distorted by static and terror. *"THEY BYPASSED THE LOWER LIFTS! SNIPERS ON THE ROOF—"*
A deafening, catastrophic *CRACK* tore through the air.
The twelve-foot ballistic glass of the terrace violently spider-webbed, a high-caliber round punching through the reinforced pane, missing my shoulder by inches and blowing a chunk of marble out of the interior wall behind us.
"DOWN!" Dante bellowed.
His massive arm hooked around my waist, tackling me to the hardwood floor as a second and third round shattered the glass into a million cascading shards of diamond hail. He shielded my body with his own, absorbing the impact of falling debris, his weapon raised toward the terrace entry.
*"Sophia!"* I screamed through the deafening roar of sirens and shattering glass. *"Dante, Sophia is in her room!"*
"Stay low! Stay behind me!" he roared, pulling me with him as we crawled through the hail of glass into the hallway.
The power suddenly died. The entire penthouse plunged into pitch-black darkness, illuminated only by the frantic strobes of the red emergency lights. Gunfire erupted from the foyer—heavy, rhythmic bursts of automatic weapons echoing off the stone walls. Lorenzo’s men hadn't just breached the building; they were inside the penthouse.
Dante shoved me into the recessed alcove beside Sophia’s bedroom door. He pulled a spare, compact firearm from his ankle holster and slapped it into my trembling hands, his grip crushing mine.
"Safety is off. Point and pull," he ordered, his eyes wild, feral, and terrifying in the flashing red light. "If anyone other than me walks through this corridor, you empty the magazine. Understand me, Elena?"
"Dante, don't—"
"Take Sophia into the hidden panic room behind her closet! Lock the hydraulic bolts and do not open it for anyone!"
Before I could answer, a shadow moved at the far end of the corridor. Dante spun, firing two deafening, precise rounds down the hall. A man screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor with a wet thud.
"GO!" Dante roared, throwing himself into the firefight to draw the attackers away from the nursery.
I kicked open Sophia's door and lunged into the bedroom.
"Sophia!" I gasped.
The room was in shambles. The window overlooking the park was completely blown open, the cold night wind howling through the curtains like a demon. The glass lay shattered across the floor.
And standing beside Sophia's empty bed was a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in tactical black gear, his face obscured by a ballistic mask.
In his arms, wrapped in a dark duffel, was a thrashing, terrified little girl.
"Don't move, little baker," the man sneered, his voice muffled by the mask as he raised a silenced pistol directly at my chest, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Or the boss's daughter dies right here."
Sophia caught sight of me through the gloom. Her hazel eyes were wide with pure terror, and from her raw, screaming throat tore a sound that shattered the room:
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*"ELENA!"*
My finger tightened on the cold steel trigger in my hands. The gunfire in the hallway roared closer, Dante’s enraged voice screaming my name through the smoke—and as the intruder’s gun aligned with my heart, I pulled the trigger.
