Chapter 5 - THE SIEGE IN THE SNOW
Before Donato could bark an order, the heavy double doors of the villa burst open behind Luca.
A volley of automatic gunfire shattered the high stained-glass windows of the foyer, raining glittering shards of colored glass across the marble floor.
Luca dropped instantly, rolling behind a massive stone pillar as bullets chipped away at the masonry.
“Ambush!” Massimo roared, scrambling to his feet and drawing his pistol as he scrambled toward the west wing.
From the shadows of the gallery above, three heavily armed mercenaries in tactical black gear swung down from the upper balcony on rappelling ropes, their assault rifles sweeping the foyer with lethal precision.
Donato didn't flinch. He ducked behind a carved mahogany console, shouting over the roar of gunfire at Luca.
“You arrogant fool!” Donato screamed across the room. “You think I was the only one who wanted her dead? The Russian syndicate found out about her audit two days ago! They want the drive just as badly as we do!”
Luca’s mind raced. The Russians. Konstantin’s syndicate—their primary competitors in the eastern European arms and shipping lanes. If the Russians had breached the estate, it meant Donato’s security detail had been compromised or bought off from the inside.
Elena.
Panic spiked hot and sharp in Luca’s chest—a foreign emotion he hadn't felt in a decade. She was still sitting unprotected in the G-Wagon parked outside in the courtyard.
Luca didn't hesitate. He pulled a suppressed compact submachine gun from his shoulder rig, popped out from behind the stone pillar, and double-tapped two of the descending mercenaries before they could acquire their targets. The men crumpled mid-air, crashing heavily onto the marble.
The third mercenary swung his barrel toward Luca, but a deafening roar from the open doorway stopped him cold.
A black tactical shotgun blast ripped through the snowstorm from outside, catching the third mercenary squarely in the chest and throwing him backward over the balcony railing.
Luca spun around, leveling his weapon toward the door—and lowered it.
Framed against the blinding white snow in the doorway stood Elena Rossi.
Her burgundy coat was zipped up to her chin, her dark curls whipping wildly around her face in the wind. In her small, trembling hands, she held a massive, twelve-gauge Benelli tactical shotgun that she had evidently liberated from the G-Wagon’s rear armory rack.
She was panting heavily, her eyes wide with terror, but she was standing her ground.
“You told me to stay in the car,” Elena shouted over the howling wind, smoke still curling from the smoking muzzle of the shotgun. “I got bored!”
Luca couldn't help the fierce, grim smirk that broke across his lips.
“Remind me never to leave you alone,” Luca called back, sprinting across the foyer to grab her arm and yank her behind the heavy stone doorframe as a fresh burst of automatic fire strafed the portico.
Inside the foyer, Donato was already scrambling toward the private panic-room elevator behind the staircase, his face twisted in desperate rage.
“You’re both dead!” Donato screamed as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing him inside. “The Russians will burn this entire mountain to the ground before morning!”
Luca didn't care about Donato right now. He grabbed Elena by the waist, shoving her back toward the shelter of the G-Wagon as a dozen dark-clad figures swarmed out of the blinding snowstorm from the perimeter woods, assault rifles blazing.
“Get in the driver’s seat!” Luca ordered, thrusting his keys into her hand.
“What? I can’t outdrive a hit squad in a blizzard!”
“You drove an audit straight into a mafia stronghold, Elena! You can handle an SUV!” Luca shoved her behind the wheel, slamming her door shut before pivoting to return fire against the advancing Russian mercenaries, his submachine gun barking rhythmically in the freezing night.
Elena stared through the frosted windshield, her hands trembling violently on the leather steering wheel. She looked at the incoming wall of armed men, then down at the gearshift.
Screw it, she thought.
She slammed her foot down on the gas pedal.
The heavy G-Wagon roared with furious life, its massive tires spinning and throwing up sheets of ice and snow as it fishtailed in a violent one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, scattering the front line of Russian mercenaries like bowling pins.
Luca vaulted over the hood as the vehicle came around, yanking the passenger door open and diving into the cabin just as a hail of bullets starred the bulletproof side glass.
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“Go! Go! Go!” Luca shouted, pulling his door shut.
Elena floored the accelerator. The Mercedes launched forward, smashing straight through the wrought-iron security gates of Villa Marcelli and launching themselves out into the winding, snow-choked mountain pass as the entire estate behind them dissolved into a war zone of flashing muzzle flares and screaming alarms.
