Chapter 6 - Dawn at the Perimeter
The first pale streaks of grey light filtered through the frosted windows of the Moretti estate, chasing away the shadows of the long night. Sophia had barely slept, tossing and turning in the small bed while Emma slumbered peacefully, wrapped safely in her blankets.
Outside in the hallway, the heavy breathing of Bruno had remained a constant, comforting—if terrifying—presence until dawn.
At six o'clock sharp, a soft knock sounded at the door. Sophia opened it to find Marco standing there holding a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a warm pastry.
"Mr. Moretti’s compliments," Marco said neutrally, handing over the tray. "He’s already in the subterranean firing range. He requested your presence after breakfast."
Sophia sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "Does this man ever sleep?"
"Only when his enemies are dead," Marco replied without a hint of irony. "Eat up, Mrs. Carter. Things are about to get complicated."
An hour later, Sophia walked down the concrete stairs leading beneath the east wing into the estate's private subterranean training facility. The air down here smelled of gun oil, burnt gunpowder, and cold concrete. The sharp crack-crack of a 9mm pistol echoed off the reinforced walls, making her flinch.
Through the reinforced glass of the shooting booth, Alessandro stood in a tactical stance, emptying a magazine into a paper target fifty yards away. Every single shot clustered tightly in the center mass of the target's chest. He dropped the magazine, engaged the safety, and set the pistol down on the wooden shelf before turning to face her.
"Did you sleep well?" Alessandro asked, removing his ear protection.
"As well as someone can when she's trapped in a mafia fortress with a target on her back," Sophia retorted dryly, stepping into the booth.
Alessandro let out a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Spunky. I like that. Most people who discover they're caught between me and Sterling are currently wetting themselves."
"I have a daughter to protect, Mr. Moretti. Fear is a luxury I ran out of three years ago."
Alessandro’s expression softened slightly. He walked over to a metal table, picked up a heavy, polished silver keycard, and tossed it to her. Sophia caught it clumsily against her chest.
"What is this?"
"My personal lift key," Alessandro said. "It grants access to the secure residential wing on the top floor—far away from the service quarters. Your belongings have already been moved. From today onward, you and Emma live upstairs."
Sophia stared at the keycard in disbelief. "Upstairs? Mr. Moretti, the other staff won't like that. It’s unheard of for a maid to—"
"You are no longer a maid," Alessandro interrupted firmly. "You are under my personal protection. And until I dismantle Sterling’s network piece by piece, you stay where I can see you."
Before Sophia could argue further, the heavy metal door at the entrance of the shooting range banged open. Marco strode in, his face tighter than usual, holding a secure encrypted tablet.
"Boss," Marco said, skipping formalities. "We just intercepted a high-frequency radio transmission from the ridge outside the perimeter. Sterling’s cleanup crew just made a move."
Alessandro’s entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. The calm, calculating businessman vanished, replaced by an apex predator smelling blood.
"How many?" Alessandro asked coldly.
"Four operatives," Marco reported. "Armed with silenced carbines. They bypassed the outer motion sensors using a military-grade EMP emitter."
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Sophia’s heart skipped a beat. "Emma..."
"They aren't here for the child," Alessandro said, pulling a custom Sig Sauer pistol from a holster under his arm and checking the chamber with a sharp click. "They're here to eliminate the loose ends Viktor Sterling left behind—starting with you."
