Chapter 4 - The Ambush at the VaultGlass shattered across the velvet carpet as thick white smoke poured into the luxurious suite.
"DOWN!" Vincent roared, lunging across the room with blinding speed, tackling both me and the sleeping Noah to the floor behind the heavy mahogany desk just as a hail of silenced automatic gunfire chewed through the leather armchairs above our heads.
Noah woke up screaming in terror, burying his face in my chest as I held him tightly beneath the desk, my heart hammering like a war drum against my ribs.
"Daniel..." Vincent growled, his voice a lethal rasp as he reached into his shoulder holster and drew a sleek, custom black handgun.
Through the thick smoke, three men wearing dark tactical gear and ballistic masks stepped into the suite, their weapons raised. Leading them was Daniel—the chief security guard who had grabbed my arm on the sidewalk an hour ago.
"Sorry, Mr. Vincent," Daniel said, his voice cold and devoid of remorse as he raised his suppressed weapon toward the desk. "The Don paid me five million dollars to make sure the kid never left this club tonight. And you shouldn't have dug into family business."
Before Daniel could squeeze his trigger, Vincent slid out from behind the mahogany desk like a striking viper.
RAT-TAT-TAT!
Three rapid, precise gunshots echoed through the room. Vincent fired with terrifying, surgical precision, hitting the two tactical mercenaries directly in the chest before they could even adjust their aim. Both men collapsed heavily onto the marble foyer floor.
Daniel panicked, firing wildly into the smoke as he scrambled backward toward the open hallway. Vincent didn't hesitate; he lunged forward, grabbed Daniel by his tactical vest, and violently slammed him against the stone fireplace hearth.
CRACK!
The sickening sound of Daniel's jaw shattering rang out through the suite. Daniel dropped his weapon, groaning in agony as he collapsed onto his knees.
Vincent stood over his former chief guard, his gun pointed directly between Daniel's eyes, his face a mask of terrifying, unadulterated fury.
"Who else knows the child is here?" Vincent demanded, his voice dropping into a chillingly quiet register.
"N-nobody..." Daniel stammered out through a mouthful of blood. "Richard... Richard is waiting at the Upstate estate... he's bringing the syndicate capos there tonight to officially declare the kid dead and seal his leadership..."
Vincent didn't say another word. He struck Daniel across the temple with the heavy butt of his gun, knocking the traitorous guard completely unconscious onto the rug.
Vincent turned around quickly, his dark eyes locking onto me. I was shaking violently beneath the desk, clutching Noah close to my heart, but I hadn't let go of the child for a single second.
Vincent walked over, dropping to one knee beside us. He reached out his broad, warm hand, gently checking Noah for any injuries before looking up at my pale face.
"Are you hurt?" Vincent asked softly, his tone completely shifting from a ruthless killer back to a protector.
"N-no," I gasped out, trying to catch my breath. "We're okay."
Vincent reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from my sweaty forehead, his dark eyes burning with an intense, fierce emotion that sent a strange warmth rushing through my veins.
"You're the bravest woman I've ever met in my life, Elena Brooks," Vincent murmured softly. He stood up, offering me his hand to help me to my feet. "Now we finish this. Richard is at the lion estate right now, attempting to steal this boy's future. We are going to crash his meeting."
An hour and a half later, a heavily armored black SUV tore through the heavy snowstorm along the winding mountain roads of Upstate New York.
Inside the vehicle, Vincent sat in the front passenger seat, constantly reviewing tactical maps on an encrypted tablet, while three trusted, veteran Moretti enforcers—men who had been fiercely loyal to Vincent's late father—drove the vehicle. I sat in the rear seat, wrapping a warm cashmere blanket around Noah, who was quietly drinking a box of apple juice.
As the SUV rounded a steep mountain bend, the massive iron gates of the Moretti estate came into view, illuminated by floodlights in the swirling snow. Mounted on the center of those gates was the golden lion, its brass jaws gleaming in the dark.
Parked along the wide stone driveway were over a dozen luxury sedans belonging to the high-ranking capos of the Moretti Crime Syndicate.
Vincent turned around in his seat, looking at me and Noah.
"Richard has gathered all twelve syndicate board members inside the grand hall," Vincent explained calmly. "He is about to execute a legal motion to declare Noah legally deceased so he can claim the controlling shares forever."
Vincent reached into his coat and pulled out a small, sleek silver emergency phone, handing it to me.
"If anything goes wrong inside that house," Vincent instructed, his voice grave, "press the red button. My private security team stationed outside the gates will immediately breach the compound and extract you and Noah safely out of the state."
I looked at the phone, then reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small brass key. I took Vincent's hand and pressed the key firmly into his palm.
"Don't let him win, Vincent," I said softly, looking into his dark eyes. "Give this boy his name back."
Vincent looked down at the brass key in his hand, his fingers tightening around the metal. He turned to look at Noah one last time, offering the little boy a rare, warm smile.
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"I promise you, buddy," Vincent said softly. "Nobody is ever going to make you hide in the dark again."
Vincent pulled his weapon, stepped out of the SUV into the freezing snow, and strode purposefully toward the grand stone entrance of the lion estate.
