Chapter 5 - Sanctuary in the Storm
The estate erupted into chaos. The sounds of heavy gunfire and shattering glass echoed through the grand hallways as Vance’s mercenary strike team forced their way through the outer perimeter.
Margaret grabbed Sophia’s hand and ran toward the far side of the glasshouse. The air inside was warm and thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and wet earth. Sunlight had long given way to the dark, rain-streaked night, illuminated only by the rhythmic flash of red security strobes.
"In here! Quick!" Margaret ushered Sophia behind a massive stone fountain carved in the shape of a blooming lily.
"Miss Walsh, I'm scared!" Sophia cried, burying her face in Margaret’s skirt.
"I know, baby, I know. But look at me." Margaret dropped to her knees, holding Sophia’s face gently in her hands. "I am not going to let anything happen to you. Do you hear me? Your mama loved you, Isabella loved you, and right now, Mr. Moretti is fighting for you. We are going to be a team. You and me."
Sophia sniffled, nodding bravely. "Isabella said... she said her papa was like a big storm. But if you're inside the storm with him, nothing else can hurt you."
Margaret felt a lump form in her throat. She looked toward the rear of the glasshouse, where a heavy iron door disguised behind hanging vines led to the reinforced safe room. She reached out, pushing aside the leaves to reveal the digital keypad.
Click.
Before she could type the code Daario had whispered to her, the heavy glass ceiling above them shattered.
Shards of glass rained down like lethal hail. A dark figure rappelled down through the broken roof, landing heavily on the cobblestone floor just ten feet away.
It was a tactical mercenary clad in black body armor, a suppressed rifle raised and leveled directly at Margaret and Sophia.
"Target acquired," the mercenary grunted into his comms unit. "Preparing to clear."
Margaret didn't think. She didn't calculate the odds or consider her own safety. With a primal, protective scream, she grabbed a heavy clay flowerpot from the nearest display and threw it with all her strength at the gunman’s face.
The pot smashed against his tactical helmet, throwing off his aim just as he squeezed the trigger. The gunshot hissed softly through the air, embedding a bullet deep into the brickwork behind Margaret’s head.
The mercenary stumbled back, growling in anger, and raised the rifle again. "Stupid bitch—"
BANG.
A single heavy gunshot roared through the glasshouse, shattering the mercenary’s chest armor. He collapsed onto the stone floor like a sack of rocks.
Standing in the shattered doorway of the conservatory was Daario Moretti. His coat was gone, his crisp white shirt stained with dirt and blood, his eyes burning with a terrifying, demonic fury. He racked the slide of his pistol, walking slowly over the fallen gunman toward Margaret and Sophia.
"Are you hit?" Daario’s voice was hoarse, frantic.
"No... no, we're okay," Margaret breathed, her knees giving out. She collapsed against the stone fountain, gasping for air.
Daario immediately dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the blood dripping from a shallow graze on his arm. His heavy hands reached out, carefully touching Margaret’s cheeks, checking her face, her shoulders, her hair for injuries.
"You threw a pot at a mercenary," Daario whispered, a mixture of disbelief and profound wonder in his voice. "You absolute lunatic."
"He was going to shoot her!" Margaret blurted, her tears finally overflowing. "I couldn't... I couldn't let him!"
Daario’s gaze shifted from her face to her eyes, holding her with an intensity that made the air feel suddenly thick. Without a word, he pulled both Margaret and Sophia into his arms, wrapping his broad, powerful frame around them like a wall of iron.
For the first time in months, Daario felt the ice around his heart crack entirely.
"They're falling back," Marco’s voice boomed as he ran into the glasshouse with three armed men. "We drove off the main assault. Vance’s men are retreating."
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Daario pulled back slowly, keeping one hand gently resting on the back of Margaret’s head, his thumbs softly wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks.
"It’s over for tonight," Daario said softly to her. "But tomorrow, we take Arthur Vance’s world away from him."
