Chapter 8 - The Siege Of The Villa Stone
The Umbrian hills echoed with the sharp, rhythmic crack of automatic gunfire. Downstairs, the heavy oak doors of the grand foyer had already been splintered by a breaching charge, sending ancient wood and iron bolts flying across the marble floor. Simona didn't run to the basement. While Moretti and two armed guards tried to usher her and Chiara toward the subterranean safe room, she broke away from them in the second-floor hallway, her medical bag—which she had stubbornly refused to leave behind—clutched tightly in her hands. "Simona, are you insane?!" Chiara screamed, clutching Marco tightly against her chest as the little boy cried in absolute terror. "We have to hide!" "Go!" Simona yelled back over the din of shattering glass and gunfire echoing from below. "Lock yourselves in the safe room! I have to go to Gabriel!" She didn't wait for her sister’s protests. She sprinted down the carpeted hallway toward the sweeping marble staircase, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She knew human anatomy. She knew trauma. And she knew that Gabriel had just forced himself out of a surgical bed with a torn spleen and fresh stitches. If he engaged twenty armed men in close-quarters combat, he wouldn't survive ten minutes. She reached the top of the stairs just as a deafening explosion rocked the western wing, blowing out the stained-glass windows and sending a thick plume of gray smoke billowing up into the vaulted ceiling. Down in the grand foyer, absolute chaos reigned. Three of Rossi’s men in tactical gear were advancing past the marble pillars, their assault rifles raised, firing blindly into the shadows. And standing in the center of the room, leaning slightly against a stone pillar for balance, was Gabriel. His white shirt was soaked dark with blood down his left side, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. But his aim was terrifyingly steady. Thud. Thud. Thud. The suppressed Beretta spat three silent rounds. Two of Rossi’s men dropped instantly, hitting the marble floor without a sound. The third man spun around, screaming in panic, raising his rifle toward Gabriel’s chest. "Gabriel!" Simona screamed from the top of the staircase. The gunman whipped his head upward toward the sound of her voice, shifting the barrel of his rifle away from Gabriel and toward the landing. Time seemed to fracture into slow motion. Simona froze, staring down the black barrel of the gun pointed straight at her face. But before the gunman could pull the trigger, a dark shadow lunged out from the side alcove. Salvatore Moretti slammed into the gunman like a freight train, tackling him over the marble banister and sending both men crashing down into the foyer below in a tangle of limbs and shattered wood. A heavy silence followed, broken only by the crackle of distant flames and Gabriel’s heavy, agonizing breaths.
