Chapter 3 - The Child's Stand
A heavy metal wrench struck Sloan squarely in the back of his knee with a dull, hollow thud.
It wasn't a grown operative.
It was Sophie, her face streaked with tears and grease, clutching her stuffed rabbit in one arm while swinging the heavy tool with all the adrenaline in her small body.
Sloan let out an enraged roar as his knee buckled beneath him.
His pistol jerked upward, firing a stray round that shattered an overhead pressure gauge, sending a blinding plume of scalding white steam roaring into the space between them.
In that half-second of distraction, Vincent fired.
A single 9mm hollow point tore through Sloan's tattooed left wrist, sending the assassin's gun flying across the wet tile floor.
Marcus lunged forward like a striking viper, tackling Sloan to the concrete and pinning the massive killer beneath two hundred pounds of tactical gear and a knee to his throat.
Vincent swept Maria into his left arm, pulling her away from the hissing boiler as his men secured the perimeter.
"Sophie!" Maria cried out, falling to her knees and dragging her trembling daughter into a fierce, suffocating embrace on the wet floor. "Oh God, my baby, my baby!"
Sophie dropped the wrench, her little hands burying themselves in her mother’s soaked uniform as she began to sob uncontrollably.
"He told me to stay in the closet, Mommy," Sophie whimpered between gasps. "He said if I made a sound, he would shoot you... but I found the big tool on the shelf."
Vincent knelt down beside them on the stained floorboards, heedless of the puddles soaking into his expensive wool trousers.
He reached out and gently rested his large, calloused hand on Sophie’s shaking shoulder.
"You did good, little one," Vincent murmured, his fierce eyes softening with profound, genuine tenderness. "You saved your mother's life. And nobody will ever touch either of you again. That is a Romano vow."
Sophie looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide through her tears, and gave a tiny, trembling nod.
Vincent stood up, turning his attention to the ground where Marcus was clicking heavy steel zip-ties around Sloan's bleeding wrists.
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Sloan spit blood onto the floor, glaring up at Vincent with pure, unadulterated venom. "Kill me, Romano. Salvatore has your cousin. The docks fall tonight anyway."
"Death is far too easy for someone who hunts children, Peter," Vincent replied, his voice dropping into arctic cold. "Take him to the vault beneath the wine cellar. Marcus, call our private physician. I need him conscious for the next twelve hours."
