Chapter 7 - The Bloodline Protocol
The underground tunnel was cold and dark, the walls weeping moisture that smelled of pine needles and damp earth. Sophia moved as fast as she could, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. She held Lily securely in her left arm while her right hand held Ethan’s small, warm hand.
Ethan didn't cry. He walked beside her with remarkable discipline, his small polished dress shoes slipping slightly on the damp stone steps, but he never complained.
“Is my dad going to fight them all?” Ethan asked quietly into the darkness.
“Your father is a very strong man, Ethan,” Sophia whispered back, her voice echoing softly off the narrow archway. “He is protecting us.”
“He’s protecting you too,” Ethan said, looking up at her in the dim light of the emergency strips along the baseboard. “My dad doesn't let just anyone into the panic room. Only family.”
Sophia’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn't answer. She focused on the steps, descending deeper beneath the earth while the muffled thud-thud-thud of explosions above reminded her of the nightmare occurring in the mansion above.
Behind them, high up in the bunker, Alessandro watched the hidden door seal completely.
The electronic lock beeped, wiping its memory bank. From the outside, the concrete wall appeared seamless.
The main blast door of the panic room vibrated violently as a thermite breaching charge burned through the heavy titanium locking pins. Sparks showered into the room, followed by a violent kick that blew the heavy door inward.
Three mercenaries burst into the room, weapons raised, sweeping the small space with tactical lights.
The room was empty—except for Alessandro Moretti, who was standing in the far corner, unmoving, his hands resting casually behind his back.
“Target acquired!” the lead mercenary barked into his shoulder mic. “Don Moretti is alive. Subdued.”
“Where is the boy?” a voice rasped over the mercenary’s radio.
Alessandro stepped into the center of the light. His face was devoid of fear, his posture that of a king accepting visitors in his throne room rather than a man surrounded by armed killers.
“My son is far beyond your reach,” Alessandro said quietly.
The lead mercenary stepped forward, raising the butt of his rifle to strike Alessandro across the face. “Where is he, old man?”
Alessandro didn't dodge. He leaned his head slightly to the left, caught the mercenary’s wrist with his left hand, and used his right hand to drive a small, heavy silver object directly into the mercenary’s neck.
It was not a knife. It was a high-voltage industrial stun unit kept inside the panic room’s emergency cabinet.
Fifty thousand volts discharged directly into the mercenary’s carotid artery. The man’s body convulsed violently before he collapsed onto the floor like a sack of wet concrete.
Before the other two mercenaries could raise their weapons, the shadows behind them seemed to come alive.
Marco stepped out from the darkness of the entry alcove, holding a short-barreled shotgun. Two heavy blasts filled the small room with a deafening roar, sending the remaining two mercenaries crashing back into the outer hallway.
“You took your time,” Alessandro said, pulling the fallen mercenary’s rifle from his hands and checking the magazine.
“Victor was chatty,” Marco replied, wiping a dark smear of grease from his cheek. “He tried to offer me two million dollars to leave him in the wine cellar. I told him my loyalty cost three million, then I locked him in the meat locker instead.”
Alessandro allowed himself a grim, fleeting smile. “The perimeter?”
“Gabriel managed to route the estate’s main power grid through the electric security fence,” Marco reported, reloading his weapon. “Half their ground team got fried at the north wall. The rest are trapped in the courtyard between the fountains and our heavy guards. They thought they were ambushing us, Alessandro. They didn't realize this house was designed by men who expected to be besieged.”
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Alessandro walked out into the smoking hallway, stepping over the fallen mercenaries.
“They targeted my son on his birthday,” Alessandro said, his voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute murder. “They brought fire to my home. Now, Marco... we turn this entire estate into their graveyard.”
