Chapter 3 - The Breach at the East Wing
"Tie them up," Lorenzo commanded, his voice shaking with a rare, terrifying fury as he pointed his gun at Carlo and Vance. "Put them in the wine cellar vault. I will deal with them personally once the estate is clear."
Four loyal guards dragged the groaning traitors out of the dining room.
Lorenzo turned to Mia. The old mob boss stepped forward, his eyes searching her calm face. "You knew," he said flatly. "You knew before the lights went out."
"I knew Vance was lying, and I knew Carlo was waiting for a signal," Mia said, pulling her tactical flashlight from her pocket. "The power outage wasn't an equipment failure. They cut the main lines from the breaker box near the east gate. Which means the perimeter fence is down, and the secondary assault force is already on the grounds."
Matteo checked the magazine of his own 9mm pistol, sliding it back into his holster. "How many?"
"Carlo’s team was meant to kill you inside during the blackout," Mia analyzed rapidly. "Since that failed, the Ferretti breach team outside won't wait. They know the alarm has been raised. They have a narrow window before the city police or your external reinforcements arrive. They will breach the fastest entry point."
"The East Wing library," Matteo said, his eyes widening as he remembered the secret passage. "The hidden door."
"Exactly," Mia nodded. "Lorenzo, take four men and secure the main foyer. Do not leave the central hall. Matteo, you come with me."
Lorenzo didn't argue. The man who had hours earlier declared that no woman could guard his son simply nodded. "Keep him alive, Miss Callaway."
"That's what I'm paid for," Mia said.
Mia and Matteo sprinted down the long, red-lit corridors toward the East Wing. The mansion was eerily quiet, the distant sound of rain beginning to patter against the high stained-glass windows.
As they reached the heavy oak doors of the library, Mia held up her hand, signaling Matteo to halt.
She crouched near the floor, looking at the thin gap beneath the doors. A faint stream of cool air was rushing out into the hallway, carrying the distinct smell of damp earth, gun oil, and wet wool.
"They're already inside the passage," Mia whispered, pulling her gun from her holster and flipping off the safety. "At least four men."
"How do we handle them?" Matteo whispered back, his heart pounding against his ribs. He was a capable man, but he was a businessman, not a soldier.
"We don't fight them in the library," Mia said quietly. "The library has too many angles and wooden cover that won't stop high-caliber rounds. We trap them in the bottleneck."
She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out a small, metallic canister—a standard-issue high-density smoke grenade she had taken from the equipment locker in Carlo's office earlier that afternoon.
"When I open that door," Mia instructed, "I'm going to throw this directly into the secret passage. As soon as the smoke fills the tunnel, they'll be forced to back up or flush out into the open room in a blind panic. You hold the left angle. Fire only if they point a weapon at you. Understood?"
Matteo looked into her sharp, fearless eyes and nodded. "Understood."
Mia took a deep breath, reached out, and quietly turned the brass handle of the library door.
She pushed it open a fraction of an inch, pulling the pin on the smoke grenade with her teeth.
Through the crack, she saw the mahogany bookcase swinging open. Four heavily armed men wearing dark tactical gear and night-vision goggles were stepping out of the hidden stone staircase into the dark library.
Mia kicked the door wide open.
"Special delivery!" she yelled.
She cooked the grenade for two seconds and hurled it with pinpoint accuracy straight past the lead attacker's head, landing it deep inside the open mouth of the stone passage.
An instant later, a thick, suffocating cloud of dense white chemical smoke exploded inside the narrow stairwell, pouring out into the library like a roaring river.
The attackers shouted in Italian, coughing violently as the thick smoke blinded their night-vision goggles and filled their lungs with burning air.
"Contact! Front!" the lead mercenary screamed, ripping off his goggles as he stumbled forward out of the smoke.
Mia stepped into the room, firing two precise shots into the chest plates of the lead mercenary's tactical vest. The heavy kinetic force knocked him flat onto his back.
Matteo fired from the doorway, his shots catching the second man in the shoulder, sending him crashing into a glass display case filled with antique silver.
The remaining two mercenaries, blinded by the smoke and disoriented by the bottleneck trap, raised their assault rifles to spray the room blind.
"Down!" Mia shouted, grabbing Matteo and throwing both of them behind a heavy oak desk just as a hail of automatic gunfire tore through the air, shattering windows and shredding the leather armchairs behind them.
Wood splinters rained down on them.
Mia leaned out from behind the desk, calculated the muzzle flashes through the smoke, and fired three rapid shots.
Two heavy thuds echoed through the room as the third mercenary collapsed to the floor.
The fourth mercenary, realizing his team had been completely wiped out in less than thirty seconds, turned and tried to scramble back down the smoke-filled passage.
Mia bolted from behind the desk, gave chase, and tackled him hard at the threshold of the hidden door.
They crashed onto the stone steps inside the passage. The mercenary, a muscular man twice her weight, turned and pinned her against the stone wall, his hand closing around her throat.
"You're dead, bitch!" he snared, drawing a combat knife with his free hand.
Mia didn't panic. She didn't struggle against his chokehold.
She reached down, grabbed her unlaced shoe, and yanked it off her foot.
Embedded in the heavy rubber heel was a concealed two-inch steel spike she had installed herself—a custom modification for close-quarters emergencies.
She slammed the heel of her shoe directly into the side of the mercenary's neck.
The man gasped, releasing his grip on her throat as blood sprayed onto the cold stone wall. He reeled backward, lost his footing on the slick, dust-covered steps, and tumbled headfirst down the long, steep staircase, crashing heavily into the dark depths below.
Mia leaned against the wall, catching her breath, her chest heaving as she slipped her shoe back on and tied the lace securely.
Matteo rushed into the passage, his gun raised, his eyes wild with fear. "Mia! Are you okay?!"
Mia brushed a lock of dark hair out of her face, adjusted her blazer, and looked up at him with a faint, tired smirk.
"I told you," she wheezed softly, rubbing her neck. "My feet are unreliable."
May you like
Matteo stared down at the fallen mercenaries, then at Mia, before breaking into a breathy, disbelieving laugh. "You are completely insane."
"I'm effective," she corrected, taking his arm as she stepped out of the passage. "Now let's go finish this before your father blows up his own house."
