Chapter 10 - THE FIRE WE MUST WALK THROUGH AGAIN
The garden was dead silent, save for the wind rustling the oak trees.
Six corrupt cops, weapons raised, completely boxed us in on the patio.
Patrick held his hand out, his eyes locked on mine.
“The bracelet, Emma. Now.”
I looked at Luca. His jaw was clenched, his eyes rapidly scanning the perimeter, calculating the odds. Six men, plus Patrick. We had no cover.
If I gave him the bracelet, he would kill us anyway. He couldn't leave witnesses.
I reached for the silver clasp on my wrist.
I unhooked it slowly.
The heavy silver chain dangled from my fingers.
“Good girl,” Patrick sneered. “Toss it.”
I didn’t toss it to him.
I turned and threw it as hard as I could into the deep, churning waters of the estate’s decorative koi pond.
Splash.
The heavy silver sank instantly into the muddy bottom.
Patrick’s face twisted in rage.
“You stupid bitch!”
He raised his gun to shoot me.
But my distraction was the exact fraction of a second Luca needed.
Luca didn’t draw his gun. He grabbed the heavy wrought-iron patio table and flipped it violently upward.
The heavy metal caught Patrick under the chin, throwing him backward just as his gun fired. The bullet shattered a terra-cotta pot.
“Get inside!” Luca roared.
He shoved me, my mother, and Elena through the terrace doors.
The corrupt cops opened fire. Bullets chewed through the glass doors and the brick siding.
We scrambled into the kitchen, glass raining down around us.
Luca drew his weapon and fired three precise shots through the broken windows. One cop dropped.
“To the panic room!” Luca ordered.
“We can’t outrun them, Luca!” Elena cried, clutching her side.
“We don’t have to outrun them. We just have to hold them off.”
Luca hit a button under the kitchen island.
Heavy steel security shutters immediately began slamming down over every window and door on the ground floor.
The house plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the red glow of the emergency lights.
The cops outside began battering the rear steel door.
“They have breaching charges,” Luca said, checking his magazine. “It’ll take them five minutes to blow that door.”
He looked at me.
“Take Sarah and my mother to the panic room in the basement. Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone but me.”
“I’m not leaving you up here to fight them alone!” I yelled.
“Emma, please,” Luca grabbed my arms. “If Patrick gets you, he’ll use you to fish that key out of the pond. You have to hide.”
“He killed my father, Luca.” My voice was shaking, but not from fear. From rage. “I am not hiding in a basement while the man who destroyed my family is in this house.”
Luca stared at me. He saw the fierce, unyielding determination in my eyes.
He didn’t argue.
He reached into his waistband, pulled out a secondary weapon—a sleek, compact 9mm—and handed it to me.
“Safety’s off. Aim for center mass.”
I gripped the gun. It felt heavy. Real.
I turned to my mother and Elena.
“Go. Now,” I told them.
The two older women didn't hesitate. They hurried toward the basement stairs.
BOOM.
The rear steel door blew entirely off its hinges, a cloud of smoke and dust filling the kitchen.
Patrick and his remaining five men poured into the house.
Luca and I fell back into the grand dining room, taking cover behind the massive mahogany table.
“Flush them out!” Patrick yelled through the smoke.
Flashlights cut through the dark.
I gripped my gun, my heart hammering against my ribs.
This was the room where it all started. The engagement dinner.
I wasn't a scared housekeeper anymore.
A cop stepped through the double doors, sweeping his rifle.
I didn't close my eyes. I raised my hands, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The cop dropped, clutching his leg.
Luca fired twice, taking out the cop next to him.
“They’re behind the table!” Patrick roared.
Heavy suppressing fire ripped through the mahogany wood, raining splinters over us.
“We need a better position,” Luca shouted over the noise. “The balcony!”
We scrambled up the grand staircase, bullets tearing into the banister right behind us.
We reached the second-floor landing.
Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed my ankle.
I screamed, falling forward onto the stairs.
It was Patrick.
He had flanked us.
He dragged me backward down the stairs, pressing the barrel of his gun directly under my chin.
Luca spun around, his gun raised.
But he froze.
Patrick smiled, his teeth stained with blood from the table impact.
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“Drop it, Luca,” Patrick sneered. “Or she dies exactly like her father did.”
TITLE: THE FINAL SHOT IN THE DARK
