Pierced to kill

CHAPTER 4: BLOOD IN THE HALLWAY

Aurora

The mansion shook beneath another explosion. Dust drifted from the ceiling. Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered, followed by a chorus of gunfire that echoed through the halls. I had imagined Dante De Luca dead a thousand times. I had dreamed of watching his empire burn to ashes. Yet now, standing in the middle of his bedroom while unknown men stormed the estate looking for me, I realized something terrifying. This wasn't my plan. Who were they?

Dante grabbed a handgun from the drawer beside his desk and checked the magazine with practiced ease. Click. Full. He tucked another pistol into the back of his waistband before pulling a knife from beneath his jacket. His movements were calm. Efficient. Like this was just another Tuesday. "Can you shoot?" he asked without looking at me. I laughed bitterly. "You've seen me try." "You aimed well." "I missed." "You hesitated." "I didn't." He finally looked at me. "You aimed at my shoulder." I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came out. Because he was right.

He tossed something toward me. Instinct took over. I caught it. A pistol. My eyes widened. "You expect me to protect you?" "I expect you to protect yourself." "You trust me with a gun?" "I don't trust you." He walked toward the door. "But whoever is outside wants you alive." That stopped me. Alive. Why?

Another explosion rocked the hallway. The lights flickered. Then died. Darkness swallowed the room. Emergency lights flooded the corridor with a dim crimson glow. The entire mansion looked like it had been dipped in blood.

Dante opened the door cautiously. Two guards lay motionless outside, crimson spreading across the marble floor. Neither had fired a single shot. Clean kills. Professional. Dante crouched beside one of them. "A blade," he murmured. "No gunpowder." His jaw tightened. "They sent assassins." A cold chill crawled down my spine. Not soldiers. Not mercenaries. Assassins. Someone had come prepared.

Dante motioned for me to stay behind him. "I don't take orders." "I wasn't asking." I rolled my eyes but followed anyway.

The hallway stretched endlessly before us. Smoke drifted through the air. Sprinklers had activated, soaking the expensive carpets and paintings. Bodies littered the floor. Some belonged to De Luca guards. Others wore unfamiliar black tactical uniforms. Their faces were hidden behind masks. Dante nudged one with his foot. "No insignia." "They don't want to be identified."

A faint sound echoed somewhere ahead. Footsteps. Running. Dante raised his weapon. Three masked men rounded the corner. The moment they saw us, they opened fire. Bang! Bang! Bang! "Down!" Dante shouted. He shoved me behind a marble pillar just as bullets shattered the wall where my head had been. Stone fragments exploded around us. I gripped the pistol tightly. My heartbeat thundered inside my ears.

Dante leaned out. Two shots. Bang! Bang! One attacker dropped instantly. The remaining two split apart, trying to flank us. One moved left. The other disappeared into the smoke. "They're trying to surround us," Dante muttered. I peeked around the pillar. The man on the left raised his rifle. Without thinking, I fired. Bang! The bullet struck his shoulder. He staggered backward. Not enough. He lifted his weapon again. Before he could shoot, Dante's bullet pierced his forehead. Silence.

Only one left. We listened. Nothing. Too quiet. Dante's expression darkened. "Don't move." He stepped forward carefully. One... Two... Three... Suddenly, a shadow burst from the smoke. The assassin lunged with a knife. Not at Dante. At me. Everything happened too fast. I froze. The blade flashed toward my throat.

A gunshot rang out. The assassin stumbled. Dante had shot him through the chest. But he kept coming. Even with blood pouring from the wound. His eyes were empty. Almost... lifeless. Like pain meant nothing. Dante cursed. "Get back!" The assassin reached me anyway. I twisted away just as the knife sliced across my upper arm. Pain exploded through my skin. Before he could strike again, I drove the pistol into his face. He stumbled. I kicked his knee with every ounce of strength I had. Bone cracked. He fell. Dante closed the distance. One precise shot ended it. The assassin collapsed at my feet. Dead.

For several seconds, neither of us moved. Then Dante grabbed my injured arm. "You're bleeding." "I noticed." "It's deep." "I'll survive." He tore a strip from his own shirt and wrapped it tightly around my arm. His fingers were surprisingly gentle. I stared at him. "You don't have to do that." "If you bleed out, I don't get answers." "Liar." His hands paused. "You don't save people because you're curious." For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then it vanished. "We need to move."

As if on cue, Luca came sprinting down the corridor, his suit stained with blood. "Boss!" Dante straightened. "Report." "They hit three entrances at once." "Casualties?" "Twenty-two guards." My stomach dropped. Luca looked at me before turning back to Dante. "But that's not the worst part." "What is it?" "They never tried to reach the vault." "They ignored the weapons." "They ignored the money." "They ignored you." Dante's eyes narrowed. "What did they come for?" Luca swallowed. "They searched every room." "They kept asking one question." His gaze shifted to me. "'Where is Aurora Moretti?'"

The hallway fell silent. I tightened my grip on the pendant around my neck. Someone powerful knew my name. Someone powerful believed I was worth killing—or capturing. And I had no idea why. Dante looked at me, his gray eyes colder than ever. "This isn't about revenge anymore." "What do you mean?" He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It means someone has been waiting fifteen years..." His gaze dropped to the silver pendant clutched in my hand. "...for you to be found."

Before I could ask another question, every phone in the mansion buzzed simultaneously. Luca pulled his from his pocket. His face drained of color as he read the message. "What is it?" Dante demanded. Luca slowly turned the screen toward him. On the display was a single sentence.

WE TOOK BIANCA. BRING US THE GIRL... OR YOUR SISTER DIES.