Chapter 7 - The Clock is Ticking
The horrifying reality of Adrian's words settled heavily onto my chest like a physical weight.
We were no longer just innocent bystanders; we were the absolute top targets on a mafia hit list.
Adrian's breathing became shallow and rapid as the pool of blood beneath him grew terrifyingly large.
"There is a full trauma medical kit in my mother's bedroom on the second floor," he whispered weakly.
"If I don't get those clotting agents and a blood transfusion bag soon, I am going to bleed out in this bunker."
I looked at Mia, who was sitting quietly in the corner, clutching her pink backpack and staring with wide, traumatized eyes.
"I cannot leave my daughter down here while I wander through a mansion filled with trained assassins," I protested.
Adrian used his good hand to pull a small, silver backup pistol from his ankle holster.
He clicked the safety off and handed the heavy weapon to my five-year-old daughter.
"Mia, if anyone besides your mother opens that steel door, you point this at them and pull the trigger," he instructed softly.
Mia nodded bravely, gripping the weapon with both of her tiny, trembling hands.
I kissed her forehead, promising I would be right back, and slipped out through the hidden hatch.
I crept silently back into the mansion, navigating the dark, echoing hallways like a ghost.
I could hear the Falcone men tearing the first floor apart, shouting aggressively as they searched for the safe room.
I reached the second floor and slowly opened the heavy oak doors to Rosa Moretti's master suite.
The massive, luxurious room was completely dark, save for the moonlight spilling across the expensive carpets.
I rushed toward the master bathroom to find the medical supplies, my heart pounding in my ears.
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Suddenly, the cold, unmistakable metal ring of a shotgun barrel pressed firmly against the back of my neck.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off, little mouse," the old woman's voice rasped in the dark.
