Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession

Chapter 27: Intrusion

Nadia’s POV

The darkness is heavy, swallowing every corner of the dining room. My breathing accelerates, fear griping me whole. For a few seconds, nobody moves. The only sound is the frantic thumping of my own heart against my chest.

The faint shouting outside suddenly grows louder, men speaking deep Italian, followed by the terrifying rhythm of gunfire echoing through the courtyard.

“Stay right where you are,” Francesca’s voice cut through the silence. The venomous tone from before is gone, replaced by a sharp, cold discipline. There’s no panic in her voice, just the normal tone of a woman who has survived many nights like this one.

I hear the faint rustle of her dress, the faint clinking of her heels against the marble as she moves away from the table. A second later, a small beam of light pierces the darkness. She has pulled out her phone, bringing back light into the room.

“The main power grid has been cut off,” Francesca says, her sharp eyes darting toward the heavy double doors. “The backup generators should have kicked in within five seconds, but they didn’t. That means they have been sabotaged from the inside.”

A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. Inside? That means there have been spies inside this estate all along.

“So… what are we to do now?” I ask, my voice sounding incredibly small over the distant sound of shattering glasses.

Francesca directs the flashlight to my face, blinding me for a second, I had to shield my eyes with my hand. “Nothing. We wait for the guards. If we run out into the hallways without a security detail, Lorenzo’s men will shoot us before the enemies do.”

She takes steady steps to the heavy, mahogany doors, pressing her ears slightly to it.

I stand frozen by the table. Lorenzo is somewhere out there in the dark, leading his men into a blood bath. He is a monster, a man who forced a ring onto my finger, and bruised my skin, but the thought of what will happen if his enemies successfully breaches those doors makes my stomach tighten. If Lorenzo falls tonight, whoever is outside won’t just keep me prisoner. They will torture me and kill me.

Suddenly, there is a heavy thud on the outside of the dining hall. Francesca steps back, her eyes widening as the handle of the door jiggles violently. Someone is trying the electronic lock, but with the power completely dead, the heavy bolt remains engaged.

Bang. Bang.

Blows rain down heavily on the wood. It isn’t a normal knock, it is someone throwing their entire body weight against the door.

“Mrs Romano!” a muffled, strained voice calls out from the other side, it sounds like one of the guards, but it seems like he is in pain. “Open… open the door…”

Francesca doesn’t flinch. She holds the phone steady, the light fixed on the handle.

“It’s one of your men,” I whisper, taking shaky steps toward her. “It sounds like he’s hurt.”

“Shut up, you i***t,” she snaps in a low, harsh whisper. “Listen to his breathing, he is not alone.”

Suddenly, a gurgling, choked sound comes from the other side of the wood, followed by the heavy thud of a body sliding down against the floor. Then, a new voice speaks — clear and chillingly foreign.

“The lock is mechanical without the power, boss. We need to blow up the hinges.”

“Be fast about it,” a deeper voice echoes from the hallway. “Before the Don makes his way back down from the surveillance room.”

They are outside. Right behind these doors. Air leaves my lungs instantly.

Francesca moves the light away from the door, aiming it at the the back of the dining hall, toward the kitchen entrance. “Move,” she commands, her voice a low, deadly whisper. “Now, Nadia.”

I immediately run after her, my long dress twisting my ankles as my knees feel like water. But the adrenaline surging through my veins keeps me upright.

Scrambling through the rows of chairs and tables, we push through the swinging doors into the kitchen. The chefs and kitchen staffs are nowhere to be seen — either that they have fled, or they are hiding in the pantry.

Just as the swinging doors settle behind us, a deafening, explosive BOOM shakes the entire foundation of the room. The doors of the dining hall have been blown open. What follows is the sound of heavy booted footsteps into the room, beats of flashlights cutting through the racks of the kitchen doors.

“Search every tiny corner of this room!” a voice shouts. “Find his mother and his wife. The Don will surrender the territory if we have them.”

Francesca suddenly grips my arm with surprising strength, pulling me behind a massive stainless steel refrigerator, squeezing into the narrow, dark gap between the metal and the tiled wall. She turns off her phone light, the darkness returning.

I press my back against the cold wall, my chest heaving as I try to suppress the urge to sob. Francesca stays still, her breathing controlled and shallow.

The swinging doors of the kitchen creaks open. The harsh beam of flashlight sweeps across the steel counters, reflecting off the surface and casting thin silvers of light into our hiding spot. Footsteps approach quickly, followed by the metallic click of a weapon taken off its safety.

They are searching the counters one by one. And they are getting closer.