Chapter 8 - THE SHADOW OF ENZO
|
The victory at Saint Jude’s Cathedral did not mean the war was entirely over.
While Salvatore and Vanessa were being processed into federal holding cells, Enzo Moretti had escaped during a transport transfer on the Stevenson Expressway.
Two corrupt county guards had been bribed, their bodies found in a drainage ditch three miles outside the city limits.
Enzo was a wounded, cornered wolf with a network of low-level street enforcers and nothing left to lose.
By evening, the Moretti estate had been transformed into an impenetrable fortress.
Thirty additional armed sentries patrolled the perimeter walls with Belgian Malinois guard dogs.
High-caliber automated defensive turrets were primed along the private lakefront access roads.
Inside the master wing, the atmosphere was quiet, warm, and intensely guarded.
Oliver had spent the afternoon sitting in the conservatory, drawing pictures of starry skies with a new set of colored pencils I had bought him.
He wore his navy sweater proudly, refusing to take it off even when Mrs. Higgins suggested he wear a comfortable fleece.
I stood by the tall arched windows of the library, watching the dusk settle over the dark waters of Lake Michigan.
I wore an ivory knit sweater and dark trousers, my hands wrapped around a mug of hot chamomile tea.
Footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood, and Luca walked into the room, holding an encrypted tactical radio.
He had removed his dress tie, the top two buttons of his black shirt open, revealing the edge of the eagle tattoo sprawling across his chest.
“You’re still watching the perimeter, Emily,” Luca said, his voice deep and velvety in the quiet room.
“I can't help it, Mr. Moretti,” I confessed softly, turning to face him.
“Enzo knows every hidden tunnel and service door in this house.”
“He grew up playing here with you.”
Luca stopped inches away from me, his presence radiating a protective, unshakeable power that chased the chill from the room.
He reached out, his warm, rough fingers gently lifting the mug from my hands and setting it on the side table.
“Stop calling me Mr. Moretti, Emily,” he whispered, his dark eyes searching mine with breathless intensity.
“You’ve seen me on my knees on that floor.”
“You’ve held my son while he cried for his mother.”
“You have earned the right to say my name.”
My heart fluttered wildly against my ribs, heat flaring across my cheeks.
“Luca,” I breathed, the word tasting sacred and terrifying on my tongue.
A faint, beautiful smile softened the harsh planes of his chiseled jaw.
“Enzo will not get within five hundred yards of this house, Emily,” Luca promised, taking both of my hands into his large palms.
His thumbs stroked the delicate skin of my wrists, his touch sending a rush of warmth straight to my core.
“Every sensor on this property has been reprogrammed with new biometric algorithms.”
“Marco has snipers stationed on the water tower and the boat dock.”
“I will tear this entire state apart with my bare hands before I let anyone threaten you or Oliver.”
Suddenly, the lights in the library flickered once, twice, and died completely.
The rhythmic hum of the central heating cut out, plunging the vast mansion into cold, heavy darkness.
The tactical radio on Luca’s hip crackled with frantic static.
“Boss!” Marco’s voice screamed through the speaker over the sound of automatic gunfire.
“The main power grid was hit with an EMP device from the beach!”
May you like
“Enzo breached the lower sea wall with six mercenaries!”
“They’re heading straight for the conservatory!”
