Part 6
"Get down," Adrian hissed, his hand instantly finding Emma’s shoulder and forcing her to the floor behind the heavy mahogany bed.
The darkness was absolute.
Outside, the rain pounded against the glass like a thousand frantic fingers.
Inside, the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs echoed through the mansion.
Screams.
Gunfire.
The brutal, metallic sounds of a close-quarters slaughter.
Emma pressed her back against the bedframe, pulling Leo tightly into her lap.
The baby woke up, startled by the noise, and let out a sharp whimper.
"Shh, shh..." Emma whispered desperately, her heart practically bursting through her ribs. She placed her hand gently over his mouth, leaving just enough room for him to breathe, while her other hand rocked his tiny body. "Please, baby, please be quiet..."
Adrian was crouched at the edge of the doorframe.
In the darkness, she heard the heavy, mechanical click of his weapon clearing.
A large, black semi-automatic pistol.
"Marco!" Adrian called out into the hallway in a low, sharp whisper.
No response.
Only the heavy sound of a body sliding down the drywall outside.
The guards were dead.
Two shadows appeared in the doorway, highlighted only by the occasional flash of lightning from the windows.
They wore night-vision goggles. They had the advantage.
Adrian didn't wait.
He fired three times.
The muzzle flashes illuminated the room for a fraction of a second—blinding, violent light.
One shadow collapsed forward, his rifle clattering against the floor.
The second shadow returned fire, a hail of bullets tearing through the drywall, showering Emma and the baby with plaster and dust.
Emma screamed silently, curling her body into a ball over Leo.
Adrian ducked, then lunged forward with terrifying speed.
He didn't use his gun this time.
He slammed his body into the remaining assassin.
The sound of their struggle was horrific—the dull thud of fists against flesh, the cracking of bones, the ragged breathing of two men fighting for dominance in the dark.
Adrian was a billionaire, but he had fought his way up from the concrete streets of Chicago.
He fought like an animal.
With a sickening snap, the struggle ended.
The assassin fell limp.
Adrian stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his silhouette outlined by the storm outside.
"Emma," he panted.
"I'm here," she choked out, her voice cracking. "We're here."
"The house is compromised," Adrian said, grabbing the dead assassin’s rifle and night-vision goggles. "They have a perimeter team closing in. We need to leave through the old servant tunnels."
He walked over, grabbed Emma by the arm, and lifted her to her feet.
"Can you run?" he asked, his eyes invisible in the dark but his intensity burning through her.
"Yes," she said, clutching the baby.
"If I tell you to drop to the floor, you drop. If I tell you to run, you don't look back. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
May you like
"Let's go."
They stepped out into the hallway, navigating a labyrinth of shadows and bodies, fleeing deeper into the dark belly of the Romano empire.
