Chapter 8 - The Siege of Willowcrest
I reached Damian’s study just as a flashlight beam swept across the ceiling behind us.
I ducked inside, closed the heavy door without letting the latch click, and carried Luca toward the false wall behind the bookshelf. I pressed the hidden panel beneath the bronze bust of Caesar, just as Damian had shown me days before.
A heavy steel door slid open silently, revealing a reinforced steel vault equipped with independent ventilation, monitors, and an emergency beacon.
"Get inside, Luca," I whispered, kneeling down to look him in the eyes.
Luca’s eyes widened with terror as he realized I wasn't coming in. He grabbed the sleeve of my coat. "Emma, no! Come with me!"
"I have to lock it from the outside control, baby," I lied softly, my throat choking with tears. The vault could be locked from the inside, but if the mercenaries found the hidden panel, they would use cutting torches or explosives, trapping us both like rats. I had to draw them away from the study.
"Take Terry," I said, kissing his forehead and pressing the plastic dinosaur into his hands. "Lock the secondary seal from inside and don't open it for anyone except your father or me. Do you hear me? Only your father."
"Emma..." he sobbed silently, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.
"I love you, Luca. Now go!"
I pushed him gently inside and hit the emergency override button. The heavy steel door slid shut with a solid, pressurized *thunk*, sealing Luca safely behind six inches of tungsten-reinforced steel.
I took a deep breath, picked up a heavy bronze candlestick from the desk, and turned toward the study door.
The flashlight beam hit the frosted glass.
I didn't wait. I bolted through the adjoining terrace door into the freezing winter blizzard, deliberately slamming the French door behind me so they would hear.
"She’s on the balcony!" a mercenary shouted.
Heavy boots pounded across the study. Gunshots shattered the French doors, raining glass across the snow-covered terrace.
I scrambled over the stone balustrade, dropping eight feet down onto the roof of the glass conservatory below, rolling as I hit the snow-covered frame. Pain shot through my healed ribs, but I forced myself up, sliding down the snowbank toward the frozen gardens.
Two men in black tactical gear burst onto the terrace above, aiming their rifles down into the blizzard.
"There she is! Shoot her!"
Bullets tore through the snow around my feet, kicking up frozen earth. I sprinted toward the hedge maze, dodging between the snow-laden evergreens, leading them farther and farther from the house, away from Luca’s vault.
A bullet grazed my upper arm, tearing through my coat. The burning shock sent me crashing to my knees in the snow.
Before I could rise, a heavy combat boot slammed into my shoulder, pinning me down.
A man with a scarred face and night-vision goggles loomed over me, aiming a silenced pistol directly between my eyes.
"End of the line, waitress," he sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Giancarlo sends his regards."
I closed my eyes, whispering a final prayer for Luca and Damian.
A deafening roar ripped through the freezing night air.
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The mercenary’s head snapped sideways as a high-caliber round tore through his helmet. Blood splattered across the white snow, and his lifeless body collapsed beside me.
***