Chapter 13 - Shadows in Sicily
Thick, blinding smoke instantly filled the grand foyer as heavily armed mercenaries swarmed into our home.
Alessandro grabbed my hand and pulled me forcefully behind the massive granite kitchen island.
He drew his concealed pistol and fired blindly into the smoke, shattering the expensive decorative vases in the hallway.
I heard the terrifying, synchronized sound of tactical rifles clicking into automatic firing modes.
Maso Greco dropped from the second-floor balcony, landing heavily on a mercenary and snapping the man's neck instantly.
Our loyal bodyguard roared in fury, using the dead man's rifle to lay down brutal, suppressive fire.
He screamed for us to fall back to the reinforced panic room hidden beneath the wine cellar.
We crawled across the floor, dodging a relentless storm of high-caliber bullets that shredded the beautiful Italian kitchen.
I could hear Elena screaming in terror from the guest wing on the opposite side of the sprawling villa.
Alessandro tried to run toward her voice, but a sudden explosion of drywall and brick forced him back into cover.
Three massive Russian operatives stepped through the ruined wall, their laser sights cutting through the thick smoke.
They were not dressed like street thugs; they wore high-end tactical gear and moved with absolute military precision.
One of the men aimed a grenade launcher directly at the granite island protecting us.
Maso threw himself across the room, tackling the operative just as the grenade fired directly upward.
The explosion tore through the ceiling, raining heavy plaster and flaming debris down upon us all.
I dragged Alessandro toward the hidden cellar door, my lungs burning from the toxic, suffocating smoke.
We tumbled down the dark stone stairs, slamming the heavy steel panic door shut and engaging the magnetic locks.
Alessandro desperately tried to pull up the security camera feeds on the underground monitor system.
The screens flickered to life, showing the horrifying aftermath of the sudden, brutal invasion.
Maso was bleeding heavily on the floor above, outnumbered and surrounded by five armed Russians.
To our absolute horror, two operatives dragged a kicking, screaming Elena toward the front doors of the villa.
Alessandro punched the steel wall in pure agony as he watched the mercenaries throw his sister into a black van.
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The camera feed abruptly cut out, leaving us completely trapped in the cold, silent underground bunker.
The Bratva had not come to kill us; they had come to take exactly what Alessandro loved most.
