Chapter 8 - The Fall of the House of Vale
Gunfire erupted beneath the Tiffany dome like a roll of thunder. Glass panels rained down from the ceiling in a deadly storm of colored shards.
Before Emma could even register the danger, Roman tackled her to the marble floor, wrapping his broad body completely over hers. She felt the heavy, violent impact of two bullets striking the Kevlar weave beneath his suit jacket, knocking the breath from his chest with a harsh grunt.
""Marcus!"" Roman roared, drawing twin pistols from under his arms while rolling them behind the heavy oak banquet table.
Marcus and four Vale operatives breached the rear doors, unleashing devastating, disciplined return fire. The hall became a slaughterhouse of deafening echoes, shouting men, and splintering wood. Mateo’s lieutenants dropped one by one onto the blood-slicked floorboards, outgunned and outmaneuvered by Roman’s elite security detail.
Emma curled into a ball beneath the table, her hands over her ears, tears blinding her vision. The revelations crashed through her head like a freight train. Her entire life—her mother’s poverty, the burned Thanksgiving dinners, the endless struggle to pay off hospital debt—had been a desperate, terrified exile to protect her from the very man now shielding her with his life.
""Emma,"" Roman’s voice cut through the carnage. He was kneeling beside her, his left shoulder bleeding freely where a bullet had grazed through the fabric. His face was pale, his jaw set in stone. ""We have to move. The side corridor leads to the underground tunnel. Can you run?""
""Why should I run with you?"" Emma sobbed, glaring at him through her tears. ""Your father killed mine! You stole everything from me!""
Roman grabbed her face with his blood-stained hands, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. There was no cold mob boss looking back at her now. Only a broken, exhausted man who had spent his entire life trapped in a prison of violence.
""My father was a monster, Emma,"" Roman said, his voice raw and shaking. ""He killed Arthur Callahan because he was greedy. And when I turned twenty-five, I killed my father to stop the bloodshed. I spent eight months watching you because I wanted to give it all back to you. Every single penny. Every building. The entire empire. I just wanted to make sure you were strong enough to survive it.""
Emma stared at him, the hatred in her chest warring with the undeniable truth burning in his gaze. He hadn't brought her here to use her. He had brought her here to crown her.
""Sniper on the balcony!"" Marcus yelled, his voice strained.
A high-caliber round slammed into the oak table, tearing a chunk of wood inches from Emma's face.
""Run!"" Roman pulled her to her feet, shoving her toward the service exit as Mateo Castiglione emerged from behind a pillar, his weapon aimed squarely at Emma's back.
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""Callahan dies today!"" Mateo screamed.
Roman didn't hesitate. He stepped between Emma and the barrel of the gun, taking the bullet directly into his abdomen. He fell hard against the marble wall, sliding down, his blood painting a crimson streak across the white stone.
