Chapter 6 - The Siege of the Mansion
The backup emergency generators hummed to life five seconds later, casting the grand hallways in an eerie, pale amber glow. Distant shouting echoed from the ballroom below, followed by the terrifying, rhythmic chatter of automatic weapons. The Moretti crew had breached the side gates during the blizzard, coordinated by Dominic’s inside traitors.
Vincent moved with terrifying speed, entirely belying his sixty years. He grabbed my wrist, leading me swiftly down the private service hallway toward Emma’s bedroom.
"Emma is locked in her room!" I gasped, panic threatening to tear my throat apart.
"That’s where we're going," Vincent barked, checking the corners with surgical precision. "My personal panic vault is built behind her closet wall. Once you and Emma are inside, three inches of reinforced titanium will keep you safe until the city tactical units arrive."
We rounded the corner of the third-floor corridor just as two armed men in dark winter tactical gear emerged from the back stairwell.
"Caruso!" one of them yelled, raising a submachine gun.
Vincent didn't flinch. He raised his weapon and fired three rapid, deafening shots. The loud cracks reverberated down the narrow hall like cannon fire. Both intruders collapsed against the wainscoting, their weapons clattering against the floorboards.
The smell of cordite and burnt gunpowder burned my nostrils. My ears rang with an excruciating whine, but Vincent pushed me forward without pausing. "Keep moving!"
We reached Emma’s bedroom door. The brass handle was locked, just as I had instructed.
"Emma! It’s Mama! Open the door!" I sobbed, banging my palm against the wood.
A tiny click sounded, and the door swung open. Emma stood there, clutching her teddy bear against her chest, her eyes wide with shock at the sound of the gunfire, but she wasn't screaming. She looked straight at Vincent.
"Is the bad man here?" Emma asked, her voice trembling.
"Not for long, little boss," Vincent whispered, kneeling down and scooping her up in his left arm while keeping his weapon trained down the hall. "Into the closet, both of you. Now!"
He guided us into the walk-in closet, pushed aside a rack of winter coats, and pressed his palm against an invisible sensor panel hidden behind the baseboard. A heavy steel door slid back with a soft pneumatic hiss, revealing a brightly lit, reinforced safe room equipped with surveillance monitors and emergency rations.
"Get inside," Vincent ordered, gently placing Emma on the floor of the bunker.
"You're not coming in?" I cried, grabbing his sleeve.
"The override controls are wired to the main terminal in my study," Vincent said, looking back down the corridor where heavy footsteps were already ascending the stairs. "If I don't engage the building lockdown from the desk, Dominic can vent the ventilation ducts. I have to lock the perimeter from the source."
"Mr. Caruso, you can't go back out there!"
Vincent looked down at Emma, who was staring up at him with tears spilling over her cheeks. He reached down and touched her cheek with his rough, scarred thumb.
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"A real boss protects the house, Emma," Vincent said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I failed Clara twenty-four years ago. I will not fail you."
He slammed the emergency seal button. The titanium door slid shut, locking my daughter and me in absolute safety.
