Chapter 8 - THE MAID'S VALOR
The heavy iron fire poker felt icy against Nora’s sweating palms as she pushed past the two stunned bodyguards and threw open the heavy double doors of the master suite.
“Miss, you can't go out there!” one of the guards yelled, grabbing her arm.
“Watch my daughter!” Nora screamed back, ripping her arm from his grasp with a desperate, maternal fury.
She stumbled into the dark, smoke-filled hallway of the second floor.
The sound of automatic gunfire was deafening, echoing up from the grand foyer where Lorenzo and his men were making their final stand. The air smelled of sulfur, burning wood, and copper blood.
Nora forced herself to walk, her body screaming in agony from the traumatic delivery hours prior. Every step sent a sharp, stabbing pain radiating through her pelvis, but the sheer adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her upright.
She moved toward the east wing, gripping the iron poker so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Through the haze of smoke, she saw them.
Two men dressed in black tactical gear were standing outside the heavy oak door of room 4B.
They weren't shooting. They were laughing.
“Russo said the old man was a vegetable,” one of the mercenaries chuckled, pulling a heavy combat knife from his tactical vest. “Let’s save the ammo. I want to see if the great Don Moretti can still bleed.”
Nora’s blood boiled.
They were going to slaughter him in his wheelchair for sport.
She didn't scream. She didn't announce her presence.
Nora crept forward, her bare feet silent on the imported Persian rug, ignoring the sharp pain tearing through her abdomen.
She raised the heavy iron fire poker high above her head with both hands.
As the mercenary reached for the brass doorknob of room 4B, Nora swung the iron bar with every ounce of strength her exhausted body possessed.
The heavy iron slammed brutally into the back of the mercenary’s knees.
The man let out a sharp cry of surprise and pain, his legs buckling instantly. He crashed hard onto the hardwood floor, dropping his combat knife.
“What the—” the second mercenary spun around, raising his assault rifle.
He froze, staring in absolute bewilderment at the pale, exhausted young woman in a blood-stained, oversized maid’s uniform holding a fire poker.
That second of hesitation was a fatal mistake.
From the shadows at the far end of the hallway, a suppressed sniper shot pfft quietly through the air.
The second mercenary dropped instantly, a clean bullet hole through his tactical helmet.
Nora gasped, dropping the heavy iron poker to the floor, her chest heaving violently.
Dominic, Lorenzo’s lead bodyguard, stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall, lowering his high-powered rifle. He looked at Nora, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and profound respect.
“Get inside with him, Nora!” Dominic yelled, rushing forward to secure the hallway.
Nora didn't wait to be told twice. She grabbed the brass doorknob, shoved the heavy oak door open, and practically fell into room 4B, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the heated blanket.
Giovanni Moretti was sitting perfectly still in his wheelchair, facing the door.
He had heard the laughter. He had heard the knife being drawn. He knew exactly what was coming for him.
But as the door opened, he didn't see heavily armed assassins.
He saw Nora.
She was bleeding, barefoot, and shaking violently from the adrenaline and pain.
Nora scrambled across the freezing floor, collapsing onto her knees beside his wheelchair. She threw her arms around the frail old man, burying her face in his thin chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’m here, John,” she cried, clutching his hospital gown. “I told you I wouldn't leave you. I’m here.”
Giovanni couldn't lift his arms to hold her. He couldn't speak to comfort her.
But the paralyzed, legendary Don of the East Coast rested his head against hers, and for the second time in five years, tears streamed freely down his weathered face.
She had left the safety of her newborn child to protect a broken old man.
Suddenly, the deafening sound of gunfire abruptly stopped.
The silence that followed was heavy and terrifying.
Footsteps approached the door of room 4B. Not tactical boots. Heavy, deliberate, familiar footsteps.
“Papa.”
Lorenzo’s voice echoed through the thick oak wood.
Nora scrambled to her feet, wiping her eyes as the door handle turned. The lock was bypassed with a master key, and the heavy door swung open.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway.
He was covered in plaster dust and blood. He looked exhausted, but his gray eyes burned with a terrifying, victorious fire.
He looked at his father, unharmed in the wheelchair.
Then, he looked at Nora, standing protectively in front of the old man, completely unarmed but refusing to back down.
“The assault is over,” Lorenzo said quietly, stepping into the room. “We held the stairs. The local authorities are blocking the roads. Russo’s men are dead or fleeing.”
He holstered his submachine gun and walked directly toward Nora.
Nora stepped back, terrified of the violent mob boss.
But Lorenzo didn't look angry.
He stopped a foot away from her.
Slowly, deliberately, the most feared mafia boss in New York dropped to one knee on the freezing hardwood floor in front of the twenty-three-year-old maid.
“You saved my father,” Lorenzo whispered, his voice thick with raw, unfiltered emotion.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, velvet jewelry box.
He opened it, revealing the massive, flawless ruby of the Capo’s signet ring.
“You are not a maid in this house anymore, Nora,” Lorenzo stated, looking up at her with absolute, unwavering loyalty. “You are Moretti blood. You are under my protection, and my family’s protection, for the rest of your life.”
Nora stared at the ring in absolute shock.
She looked back at Old John.
Giovanni managed a slow, deliberate blink of approval.
Before Nora could even process the magnitude of what was happening, Dominic rushed into the room, his face completely pale.
“Boss,” Dominic gasped, entirely ignoring the emotional scene.
Lorenzo stood up instantly, sensing the sheer panic in his lieutenant’s voice. “What is it, Dominic?”
“It’s the baby,” Dominic swallowed hard, looking at Nora with absolute terror.
Nora’s heart stopped.
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“What about Lily?” she screamed, rushing toward the door.
“The guards in the master suite are dead,” Dominic choked out. “And the baby… Russo’s men took the baby.”
