Chapter 5 - THE MAFIA BOSS'S WRATH
The hours that followed were an agonizing stretch of pure anxiety. Upstairs in the master suite, Jacob and Jonah tossed and turned in feverish delirium. I bathed their foreheads with cold water, whispered soothing stories, and monitored their crashing vitals. The underground medic, an older man named Silas, shook his head grimly.
"Their heart rates are dropping, Emily. If Nathan doesn't get back soon, we're going to have to intubate."
Meanwhile, miles away in the heart of the city, all hell was breaking loose. Through the encrypted radio Silas had on the desk, I listened to the chaotic, fragmented communications of Nathan’s assault on the Maroni clinic.
It wasn't a stealth mission. It was a declaration of war.
Nathan’s men hit the facility with explosive force. I could hear the staccato crack of automatic gunfire echoing through the static of the radio. Nathan was a man possessed, a father fighting for the lives of his children.
"Front lobby clear! Pushing to the sub-level!" a voice barked over the radio.
"Maroni’s men are flanking the east stairwell. Suppress them!" Nathan’s voice roared, commanding the battlefield.
I closed my eyes, holding Jonah’s burning little hand. Please be safe. Please hurry.
Back at the estate, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Suddenly, the power in the mansion flickered, then died completely. The backup generators failed to kick in. The heavy security shutters over the windows groaned as they locked into place, trapping us in the dark.
"They cut the main line," Silas hissed, pulling a handgun from his medical bag. "The Maronis aren't just defending the clinic. They sent a hit squad here to finish the job."
My blood ran cold. The estate was heavily guarded, but Nathan had taken his best men for the raid. We were vulnerable.
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I grabbed a heavy bronze lamp from the bedside table, my knuckles turning white. "Silas, barricade the door. Nobody touches these boys."
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Heavy, methodical, and accompanied by the faint metallic click of weapons being drawn. The handle of the heavy oak door jiggled. Then, a massive thud shook the frame as someone began to batter it down.
