Chapter 7 - Bloodlines and Blackmail
"Lily!" Naomi screamed, lunging toward the library doors.
Before she could take two steps, Leo’s arm wrapped around her waist like an iron band, hauling her backward behind the reinforced stone mantelpiece.
"Stay down!" he ordered, his voice transforming instantly into the lethal general who commanded an underworld army. From beneath his jacket, he drew a black semi-automatic pistol, racking the slide with a single, practiced snap.
The heavy mahogany double doors of the salon didn't open—they were blown inward by a controlled breach charge. Wood splinters flew across the Persian rug like shrapnel.
Through the smoke stepped three men in tactical gear, their submachine guns raised. But they hadn't accounted for Leo Moretti on his home turf.
Two deafening gunshots echoed through the salon. The lead breacher collapsed instantly, shot through the shoulder, while Marco and two Moretti security operatives rounded the corridor, neutralizing the remaining two assailants in under five seconds with brutal efficiency.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the smell of cordite and the low groan of the wounded attacker on the floor.
Naomi fell to her knees, trembling violently, her hands pressed over her ears.
The library door cracked open, and Julie peeked out, holding a sobbing Lily against her chest. "Leo! What was that?!"
"Marco, clear the floor!" Leo commanded, ignoring the smoke as he holstered his weapon and knelt beside Naomi. He took her face in his hands, checking for injuries, his pulse racing. "Are you hurt? Did any splinter hit you?"
"Get us out of here," Naomi sobbed, grabbing his lapels with white-knuckled desperation. "Leo, please! Look at this! This is what your world does! My baby could have died!"
"No one is touching Lily," Leo said, his voice chillingly steady as he turned his gaze toward the wounded man on the rug.
Leo stood up, walking toward the downed operative. With the toe of his polished shoe, he flipped the man onto his back. He leaned down, pulling off the black balaclava.
It wasn't a Valenti soldier.
The face belonged to Thomas—the private driver who had picked up Julie and Lily at LaGuardia.
"Thomas," Leo said quietly, the lack of anger in his voice far more terrifying than a shout. "You've been on my payroll for seven years."
The wounded driver coughed, blood spitting from his lips onto the hardwood floor. "Your... your uncle promised five million, Mr. Moretti. He said if we took the kid before you announced her to the families, Dominic would take over the board by tomorrow morning."
Naomi gasped behind him. "Dominic? But you said he was in a federal cell!"
"Federal cells have guards who take bribes," Leo murmured, his eyes turning to black ice.
Thomas wheezed, clutching his shoulder. "He’s at the private hangar in Teterboro. He has a jet fueled for Zurich. He knows the feds are closing in. He wanted the girl as collateral to trade for immunity."
Leo turned to Marco, who stood at attention with his weapon drawn.
"Call our medical team for this trash," Leo said, gesturing dismissively at the driver. "Then assemble the first strike team. We are going to New Jersey."
"No!" Naomi scrambled to her feet, running toward Leo and blocking his path to the shattered doorway. "You can't go! If you leave, more of them will come!"
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Leo looked down at her. In the crimson glow of the emergency lights, his face was carved from granite, but when he looked into her terrified eyes, his expression softened with absolute certainty.
"They won't come here, Naomi. My entire secondary perimeter is locking down this estate. No one gets within three blocks," he whispered, lifting his hand to cup the back of her neck, pulling her forehead against his chest. "I spent five years in the dark because a coward stole my family from me. I am not running anymore. Tonight, I end this so our daughter never has to look over her shoulder again."
