Chapter 27 - VENGEANCE IN THE SHADOWS
The estate was a battleground, but to Luca Rossi, it was his hunting preserve. Even broken, even half-dead, the Don moved with the lethal, predatory grace of a phantom.
He moved along the shadow of the upper balustrade, gesturing for Elena to stay close to the wall. Below them, three more mercenaries crossed the foyer, carrying crates of tactical explosives toward the central support pillars.
"They're going to bring down the whole structure," Elena whispered in horror.
"Not while I draw breath," Luca said.
He didn't fire from the balcony. Instead, he pulled an unpinned smoke canister from his belt and dropped it over the railing.
The canister hit the marble with a metallic clatter, instantly erupting into a blinding, dense cloud of white phosphorus smoke. The mercenaries shouted in confusion, coughing and raising their rifles blindly into the fog.
"What the hell was that?"
"Ambush! Form up!"
Luca descended the sweeping curve of the servants' staircase like an avenging shadow. He fired in controlled bursts, each shot perfectly placed through the haze. Shouts of panic were cut short by the wet thud of collapsing bodies.
Elena followed, her heart hammering violently in her throat, the small pistol held tightly in both hands. Through the smoke, a silhouette suddenly lunged directly at her—a mercenary, his face covered in a tactical mask, his combat knife raised to strike.
"Elena!" Luca’s roar echoed through the hall.
Elena didn't think. The memory of Luca's command flashed in her mind: *Point, pull the trigger, don't hesitate.*
She raised the pistol and pulled the trigger.
The gun kicked violently in her hands with an ear-splitting bang. The bullet tore through the mercenary's chest, throwing him backward onto the marble floor. He twitched once and went still.
Elena stood frozen, the barrel of the gun smoking, her ears ringing in shock. She had never taken a life. The finality of it hit her like a sledgehammer, making the room spin.
Suddenly, a warm, heavy hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her firmly back against a solid chest. Luca was there. His eyes were wild, blood staining his white shirt across his chest and back, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle.
"Breathe," he ordered softly, his voice cutting through the ringing in her ears. "You did what you had to do to survive. Look at me, Elena. Look at me."
She looked into his dark, ruthless eyes, finding an anchor in the absolute certainty of his gaze.
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"Now," Luca said, turning his head toward the central fountain where the smoke was beginning to clear. "Let's get your brother."
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