Chapter 6 - Blood on the Yellow Cardigan
Dante tore through the master bedroom door, drawing his concealed automatic pistol from his waistband in a single, fluid blur.
He descended the back service stairs three at a time, Henry rushing to keep pace behind him with an iron poker in his hand.
"What happened, Henry?!" Dante barked, the cold predator taking complete control of his senses.
"Two men broke in through the garden terrace windows, sir!" Henry gasped, out of breath. "I heard Miss Miller screaming and ran to sound the alarm!"
When Dante kicked open the door to the blue room, the sight that met him turned his blood to pure ice.
The room was completely ransacked; the low wooden table was overturned, the plastic teapot smashed across the floorboards.
Standing in the corner was Anna, her gray housekeeping uniform torn at the shoulder, holding a broken table leg like a club, bleeding freely from a cut across her cheek.
Behind her legs, Sophie was sobbing hysterically, clutching her one-eared stuffed rabbit against her chest.
Two masked men in tactical gear were attempting to force Anna onto the floor, while a third man was zipping a heavy canvas duffel bag.
"Let her go!" Dante roared, his voice shaking the foundation of the house.
The lead intruder spun around, raising a silenced submachine gun, but Dante was already firing.
Two deafening rounds tore through the man's chest, throwing him violently backward into the garden French doors, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces.
The second man lunged toward Sophie, reaching out with leather-gloved hands to grab the toddler by her cardigan.
"Get away from my daughter!" Anna screamed, throwing herself forward and driving the splintered wooden table leg into the man's throat.
The intruder choked on his own blood, stumbling sideways, and Dante put a single round through his forehead before he could recover.
The third man threw the duffel bag out the broken terrace window and dived into the pouring rain, scrambling across the lawn into the darkness.
"Matteo! Perimeter lockdown!" Dante bellowed into his radio collar as the compound's sirens began their piercing, synchronized wail.
He lowered his weapon, stepping over the shattered furniture and broken glass, his eyes locking onto Anna.
She was shaking uncontrollably, her hands covered in blood, dropping the makeshift club as her knees gave out beneath her.
Dante caught her before she hit the floor, his large, muscular arms wrapping securely around her trembling shoulders.
"You're safe," Dante whispered fiercely against her hair. "Look at me, Anna. You're safe."
"They came for the strongbox," Anna choked out, tears pouring down her bloody face as she clutched Dante's shirt.
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"They... they weren't robbers, Dante. They were Russo men."
Dante froze, his mind reeling as she uttered his first name with an intimacy no servant would ever dare to use.
