Page 74 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
I could have died, right here in this hallway. One inch to the left and that bullet would have hit my head instead of the window frame. The realization makes my knees buckle.
“Scarlett!” Rosa’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s already in the safe room with Luca, gesturing frantically for me to follow.
I run, ignoring the pain in my arm, and throw myself through the door. Rosa slams it shut behind me immediately and engages the locks.
We’re safe. We are safe.
For now.
I hear Luca sobbing in the corner, his hands over his ears. I go to him immediately, pulling him into my lap despite my bleeding arm.
“It’s okay, baby. We’re safe now. The bad men can’t get in here.”
“I want D! Where’s D?”
“He’s out there making sure the bad men go away. He’ll come get us when it’s safe.”
“What if they hurt him?”
The question makes my throat tight. What if they actually do? What if this time there are too many attackers and Dante can’t stop them all?
“He’ll be fine. D is very strong and very smart.”
I’m lying through my teeth, but Luca seems to believe me. He curls into my chest and keeps crying while I hold him with my good arm.
Rosa is watching the security monitors, her face bone white.
“How bad is it?”
“Ten men this time. Maybe more. They got past the outer defenses and into the courtyard.”
Ten men.Twice as many as last time.
On the monitors, I can see the chaos unfolding. Muzzle flashes light up the darkness. Bodies are dropping on both sides. And in the middle of it all is Dante, moving through the attackers like death itself.
He’s fighting with a brutality I’ve never seen before. There’s no hesitation or mercy, just raw violence.
I watch him put two bullets in one attacker’s chest, then use the body as a shield while he shoots another. When a third comes at him from behind, Dante spins and drives his knife into the man’s throat without even looking.
It should terrify me and make me want to throw up. Instead, all I can think is that he’s doing this to protect us. That every man he kills is one less threat to Luca.
Then I see him look up at the cameras. See him spot the shattered window near where I was standing. His expression changes immediately. It goes from cold and controlled to something more feral and unhinged.
He moves faster now, more reckless, killing with a savagery that makes even his own men step back. There’s no strategy anymore, just rage.
One attacker tries to surrender, hands raised, but Dante shoots him anyway. Another begs for mercy in broken English, but he puts a bullet between his eyes without hesitation. He’s not taking prisoners this time.
Within ten minutes, every single attacker is dead. Dante killed most of them himself.
The estate doctor arrives twenty minutes later to check us over. He’s an older man named Dr. Giovanni, who’s clearly used to patching up gunshot wounds and asking no questions.
He examines my arm while I sit on the edge of Dante’s bed. Luca is finally asleep in his own room with Rosa watching over him.
“Just a graze,” he says, cleaning the wound. “You’re lucky. If it had gone an inch further, it would have hit the bone.”
“How lucky of me.”
He doesn’t catch the sarcasm, or pretends not to, as he continues bandaging my arm with steady, practiced hands.
