Chapter 6 - The Broken Brotherhood
I stared at Carlo's unconscious face, my mind struggling to process the magnitude of his betrayal.
If my own underboss was leading the strike team, then my entire security network was compromised.
Every guard, every camera, and every encrypted communication channel was now effectively under enemy control.
Marco crawled over to my position, his eyes widening as he recognized the traitor on the floor.
"Carlo gave them the security codes," Marco whispered, absolute disgust lacing his voice.
"He sold us out to the Rossi family," I replied, feeling a dangerous, cold rage replace my shock.
We were entirely cut off from any outside reinforcements.
The remaining two attackers retreated further into the mansion, realizing their leader had been neutralized.
I tied Carlo's hands tightly with zip-ties from Marco's tactical belt and dragged him into a nearby storage closet.
"We cannot stay on the ground floor," I commanded, checking my weapon's magazine.
"We move to the master suite on the third floor; it has reinforced walls and a secondary vault."
We carefully escorted Elena, Sophie, the nannies, and the triplets up the hidden servants' staircase.
The babies were mercifully quiet now, exhausted from crying and confused by the darkness.
We barricaded ourselves inside the massive master bedroom, pushing heavy mahogany dressers against the double doors.
Elena held Sophie tightly, whispering calming prayers in Italian.
I checked the monitors on my private desk, finding that Carlo had completely disabled the camera feeds.
We were flying blind in our own home.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy pounding echoed against the bedroom doors.
Sparks began to fly as a high-powered thermal drill bit through the reinforced deadbolt.
"They brought breaching equipment," Marco said, aiming his weapon steadily at the door.
I instructed the nannies to take the babies into the attached master bathroom and lock the steel-core door.
As the nannies rushed the babies away, one of them suddenly stopped in the middle of the room.
It was Sarah, a quiet, unassuming nanny who had worked for me for two years.
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She turned around, her face completely void of any emotion.
From beneath her apron, Sarah pulled a concealed ceramic combat knife and pressed the razor-sharp edge directly against baby Nora's throat.
