Chapter 6 - The First Shot
The recoil of the Sig Sauer kicked straight up into Elena’s wrists, the sound of the gunshot rattling inside the penthouse with a physical blow that tasted like copper and sulfur in the back of her throat.
Dante didn't drop. Her bullet had chewed into the oak paneling an inch above his shoulder, but the sudden, uncalculated interruption shattered his concentration and threw his aim completely off. The red laser dot dancing across Matteo’s chest jerked wildly toward the ceiling.
That split-second hesitation was all Matteo needed.
He didn't waste a heartbeat. Stepping out from behind the concrete pillar, Matteo raised his Glock with two hands and fired a single, clean shot through the smoke.
Dante’s eyes widened in disbelief. The traitorous guard stumbled backward against the shattered frame of the service door, his fingers slipping from his weapon as he slid down the wall, leaving a dark, wet smear of crimson against the white paint. The silenced pistol clattered across the hardwood floor, spinning to a halt near the edge of the kitchen island.
Silence rushed back into the room, broken only by the piercing wail of the emergency alarm and the harsh, ragged sound of Elena’s breathing.
“Drop the gun,” Matteo ordered, though his voice wasn't directed at Dante.
From the shadows near the private elevator vestibule, the fourth mercenary—the one holding the red-dot rifle—raised his hands slowly into the air, letting the weapon slip from his fingers to land with a heavy thud on the carpet. He didn't look like a fanatic; he looked like a professional who realized the math no longer added up in his favor.
“Knees on the floor. Hands behind your head,” Matteo commanded, closing the distance between them with lethal, fluid precision. He slammed the mercenary down against the carpet, zip-tying his wrists behind his back with plastic cuffs he pulled from his tactical belt before kicking the man's phone across the room.
Only then did Matteo turn around, his dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on Elena.
She was still standing frozen behind the granite island, the heavy Sig Sauer shaking in her grip, her knuckles white. The adrenaline was beginning to drain out of her system, leaving a cold, trembling vacuum in its place.
Matteo crossed the kitchen in three long strides. He didn't say a word. He simply reached out, took the grip of the pistol from her numb fingers, engaged the safety, and set it down on the counter. Then he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her forward until her face pressed hard against his chest.
“You missed,” he whispered against her hair, his own breathing uneven, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
“I’m a nurse,” she choked out, her voice cracking as the shock finally hit her. “I fix people. I don’t... I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“You didn't kill him,” Matteo said, looking over at Dante, who was slumped against the wall, clutching a non-lethal flesh wound in his shoulder while groaning in pain. “And you saved my life.”
Before Elena could answer, the secure console near the master bedroom let out a sharp, encrypted chime. It wasn't an alarm this time. It was an incoming video transmission from the ground-floor security gate.
Matteo let go of Elena reluctantly, his face hardening back into stone as he strode across the room to check the monitor.
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On the split-screen display, the front security gate showed three black SUVs idling bumper-to-bumper outside the lobby. And stepping out of the lead vehicle, holding a cigar in one hand and a phone in the other, was Uncle Gianni.
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