Chapter 7 - Under Fire
The retaliation was swift. Vincent Russo wasn't a man to accept defeat quietly.
Two nights after Richard's arrest, the security alarms at my Lake Forest estate went off at 3:15 AM. The power to the entire property was abruptly cut, plunging the mansion into darkness. The backup generators kicked in instantly, bathing the hallways in a dull, red emergency glow.
I pulled my hidden tactical pistol from the nightstand and rushed down the hall to the medical wing. Marcus was already there, his rifle drawn, standing guard outside Elena and Sophie’s room.
"They breached the perimeter gate," Marcus reported calmly over the sound of distant gunfire. "Professional hit squad. Eight men. Vincent is pulling out all the stops."
"Get them to the safe room," I ordered.
I burst into the medical room. Elena was awake, terrified, holding Sophie tightly against her chest. Sophie was crying, her little body shaking.
"Sophie, look at me," I said, kneeling by the bed. I reached down and picked up her new $45 sneakers, slipping them onto her small feet. "Remember what you said? Confused faces look like mad faces. I’m not mad. I’m going to protect you. Put your shoes on, sweetie. It's time to play a game."
Despite the terror, Sophie nodded, wiping her tears. I carried Elena, who was hooked up to a portable oxygen tank, while Marcus guided Sophie. We moved through the hidden panel in the library just as the glass windows of the main living room shattered under a barrage of automatic gunfire.
We entered the reinforced bunker beneath the estate. It was self-contained, bulletproof, and equipped with satellite communications. As the heavy steel door sealed shut, the sound of the assault faded into absolute silence.
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I turned on the security monitors. Outside, the tactical response team I had hired had completely neutralized Vincent's hit squad. Three of his men were pinned down, while the rest were already in zip-ties.
But the biggest surprise was on the final camera angle. A black SUV was parked at the edge of my driveway. Sitting in the back seat, captured by our thermal cameras, was Vincent Russo himself, watching his empire crumble in real-time.
