Chapter 6 - The Siege of the Romano Estate
The rain lashed against the French windows of the east wing like handfuls of gravel as the heavy thud of combat boots echoed up the grand marble staircase.
Vincent stood at the threshold of his study, his hand resting firmly on the grip of his Glock. Behind him, Jeppe was shepherding Sophia and Antonio toward the hidden doorway behind the bookshelf that led down to the panic shelter.
"Boss! They're in the foyer!" one of the estate guards shouted over the radio before a sharp burst of static cut him off entirely.
Vincent’s jaw tightened. Salvatore’s men were moving fast, taking advantage of the blackout caused by the EMP jammer. They wanted Castellano, and they were willing to tear the entire estate apart brick by brick to get him.
"Jeppe," Vincent called out without turning around. "Get them down now. Lock the vault door from the inside. If I don't open it by sunrise, you use the emergency satellite phone to call the federal contact. Understand?"
"Boss, I'm not leaving you to face a dozen mercenaries alone," Jeppe protested, his hand hovering over his own weapon.
"That's an order, Jeppe!" Vincent barked, his voice carrying the full, terrifying weight of a mafia don who would tolerate no insubordination. "Protect the girl. That is your only priority."
Jeppe swallowed hard, grabbed Antonio by the shoulder, and gently pulled Sophia toward the secret passage. Sophia looked back just once, her tear-filled eyes locking onto Vincent’s.
"Come back," she whispered.
"I always keep my promises," Vincent said softly.
The secret door slid shut with a heavy, muffled click, sealing them away in the concrete depths of the bunker.
Vincent turned back to the study. He wasn't alone.
Diesel stood in the center of the room, his massive paws planted wide, his amber eyes fixed entirely on the heavy oak door. The dog’s lips were curled back, revealing rows of sharp, powerful teeth, and a low, guttering growl vibrated deep within his massive chest. He hadn't followed Jeppe. He had chosen his post right beside Vincent.
"You want a piece of them too, boy?" Vincent murmured, a cold, dangerous smile touching his lips. "Let's show them what happens when you mess with our home."
Suddenly, the heavy oak door of the study exploded inward, splintering into a thousand flying shards of wood as a concussion grenade was tossed across the threshold.
"Flashbang!" Vincent roared, spinning away and shielding his eyes just as a blinding white light and a deafening shockwave detonated inside the room.
Before the ringing in his ears could even begin to fade, two heavily armed mercenaries clad in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles charged through the broken doorway, their submachine guns raised.
Vincent moved with terrifying speed. Ignoring the disorientation, he dropped to one knee, whipped out his Glock, and fired twice. The first mercenary crumpled instantly, taking a round directly to the chest armor before collapsing backward over the desk.
The second mercenary pivoted quickly, aiming his weapon right at Vincent's head—
Thud.
A furry, hundred-and-twenty-pound missile launched itself from the shadows of the fireplace.
Diesel hit the second mercenary like a freight train. The impact threw the heavily armored man violently against the mahogany bookshelf, sending centuries-old books raining down in a chaotic avalanche. The man screamed as Diesel’s massive jaws clamped mercilessly around the ballistic shoulder plating of his tactical vest, shaking him like a rag doll before ripping the submachine gun right out of his hands with a single wrenching twist of his neck.
"Argh! Get this beast off me! Shoot it! Shoot it!" the mercenary shrieked in blind panic.
Before any other intruders could flood through the doorway, Vincent stepped forward, pressed the barrel of his Glock firmly against the mercenary’s helmet visor, and pulled the trigger once.
The room fell deadly still, save for the crackle of the fireplace and the heavy, ragged breathing of the dog.
May you like
Vincent lowered his smoking weapon, his chest heaving. He looked down at Diesel, who stood proudly over the fallen intruder, his coat ruffled, his amber eyes burning with fierce, unyielding loyalty.
"Good boy," Vincent panted, giving the massive dog a firm pat on his scarred shoulder. "Now... let's go clear the rest of the house."
