Chapter 10 - The Siege of the Costa Estate
We didn't run. We walked with the cold, deliberate strides of two people who had nothing left to lose.
By the time we reached the subterranean security control room, the massive multi-screen monitors plastered against the far wall were flashing an angry, pulsating crimson. Drone feeds and perimeter cameras showed a dozen black tactical vehicles idling outside the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate, their high-beam headlights slicing through the predawn fog.
At the front of the convoy stood Don Viktor Radek—the elderly, silver-haired head of the Eastern Syndicate and the longest-serving member of the Commission.
"They've disabled the local scramblers," one of the tech operators reported frantically, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "They've surrounded the property. There are at least fifty armed operatives at the main gates, and they've cut our landlines to the city."
Luciano stepped up to the main console, resting his hands on the steel edge. His face was carved from absolute ice. He didn't look surprised. He looked prepared.
"Open the front gates," Luciano commanded calmly.
The operator froze, his fingers hovering over the keys. "Sir? Open them? If we do that, they'll be inside the courtyard in—”
"I said open the gates," Luciano repeated, his voice dropping into that low, absolute register that left zero room for argument. "If we hide behind these walls, they burn the house down with us inside. If we let them walk in, we control the battlefield."
The operator swallowed hard and hit the master switch.
On the monitors, the heavy iron gates groaned open, swinging slowly inward to welcome the enemy.
I stood beside Luciano, my hands resting on the edge of the console, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. "What are they doing here, Luciano? Is Radek working with Bellini?"
"Radek isn't working with Bellini," Luciano replied quietly, his eyes locked on the monitor as the tactical vehicles rolled slowly up the cobblestone drive. "Radek is the Commission. And if your mother is right—if Dante was poisoned by someone sitting on the council twelve years ago—then Radek knows that the ledger in our basement is the only thing standing between him and a firing squad."
The heavy double doors of the mansion's main entrance echoed with a thunderous, resounding knock.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Mr. Hart stepped forward from the shadows of the control room, his hand resting calmly on the grip of a silenced pistol tucked into his vest. "Shall I let our guests in, sir?"
Luciano turned away from the monitors, looking down at me for one long, lingering moment. He reached out, his warm fingers brushing against my knuckles, sliding the heavy diamond ring he had placed on my finger earlier that morning just a little tighter.
"Stay here, Chloe," he said softly, his voice unwavering. "Lock the reinforced doors from the inside. Do not open them for anyone—not even me."
"No," I said, stepping forward, gripping the lapel of his jacket with both hands. I looked straight into his dark, dangerous eyes, refusing to back down. "You are not leaving me behind in a bunker while you walk into a execution."
Luciano stared at me, a brief, fragile spark of something resembling awe flickering behind his cold exterior.
"You really are your mother's daughter, aren't you?" he whispered.
"Worse," I replied, a fierce, defiant smile touching the corners of my lips as I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the heavy steel-handled utility knife I had swiped from the estate's toolroom. "I'm your wife, remember?"
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Luciano let out a low, dark laugh—the first genuine sound of amusement I had ever heard from him. He pulled me close, pressing a brief, fierce kiss against my forehead, before turning toward the heavy steel doors of the control room.
"Mr. Hart," Luciano called out over his shoulder as the front doors of the mansion splintered inward under the weight of the invaders. "Let's welcome the Commission."
