Chapter 8 - Turning the Tide
I grabbed a heavy iron fire extinguisher from the corner of the panic room storage rack.
“Sophia, stay right here behind this concrete pillar,” I instructed, keeping my voice as calm as humanly possible. “I’m going to play hide and seek with some noisy visitors. Do not make a sound.”
“Be careful, Emma,” she pleaded, tears sparkling in her big brown eyes.
I gave her a reassuring smile, pulled the manual lever, and the heavy steel door hissed open into the dark, oak-paneled hallway of the master suite.
Footsteps echoed up the hidden stairs. Two armed men in black tactical gear emerged from the passageway, their rifles raised.
Before the lead mercenary could register my presence, I swung the heavy fire extinguisher with all the strength in my body, smashing it directly into his chest. He staggered backward, tumbling down the narrow wooden stairs into his partner.
Before they could recover, I pulled the pin on the extinguisher and blasted a dense cloud of white chemical powder straight into their faces.
They coughed violently, blindingly swinging their rifles wildly in the air. I dropped the empty canister, grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table, and brought it down hard on the second man’s helmet, knocking him cold.
As the first man stumbled out of the powder cloud, a gunshot rang out behind me.
I froze.
The mercenary’s rifle dropped to the floor as a single bullet punched clean through his shoulder. He collapsed with a groan.
Standing at the end of the hallway was Lorenzo, his gun smoking, his face covered in soot and sweat. When he saw me standing unharmed over the two unconscious intruders, his expression of sheer terror turned into fierce relief.
“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” Lorenzo yelled, rushing over and grabbing me by the shoulders, checking me over for injuries.
“They were coming for Sophia,” I panted, my adrenaline crashing hard. “I wasn't going to wait around.”
Lorenzo looked down at the two men, then back at me, a mixture of awe and disbelief in his dark eyes. He pulled me against his chest in a tight, desperate embrace, burying his face in my hair.
“You are the most impossible, stubborn, incredible woman I have ever met,” he whispered fiercely against my ear.
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“Is it over?” I asked, breathing in the scent of smoke and rain on his jacket.
“It’s over,” Lorenzo said, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “Vincent and the federal agents I called ten minutes ago just rounded up the rest of the Moretti strike team outside. They’re done.”
