Chapter 4 - The Ambush at Apartment 3B
Crash!
The deadbolt splintered instantly. The heavy oak door burst inward, slamming against the drywall with enough force to crack the plaster.
Two men in black tactical gear, balaclavas hiding their faces, surged through the threshold. Each of them held a suppressed automatic rifle, their laser sights sweeping across the living room in frantic arcs.
“Clear!” the first one shouted.
Adrenaline spiked through my veins with the force of an electric shock. I screamed, stumbling backward until my legs hit the kitchen counter, knocking a ceramic mug onto the floor where it shattered into a hundred pieces.
Dante didn't hesitate for a single microsecond.
With blinding speed, he drew his pistol, lunged sideways behind the heavy oak kitchen island, and fired twice.
Pop! Pop!
The first intruder caught a round in his right shoulder, dropping his rifle with a loud clatter as he spun against the wall and collapsed. The second intruder recovered instantly, raising his weapon and opening fire.
Bullets chewed through the kitchen cabinets above my head, raining splinters of wood and drywall dust down onto my hair.
“Get down!” Dante roared, lunging forward and pulling me down behind the heavy wooden island just as a flurry of lead zipped through the space where I had been standing a second before.
My ears rang with the deafening thunder of gunfire inside the confined space. The smell of cordite and burning gunpowder instantly overpowered the scent of coffee and old wool.
“Dante! You’ve got backup arriving!” a voice screamed over the radio clipped to the fallen intruder’s tactical vest. “Get out of the building now!”
Dante didn't wait. He leaned around the corner of the island, fired a single precise shot that took out the second gunman’s knee, and the man dropped with a howl of agony.
In less than ten seconds, the entire living room looked like a war zone.
Dante holstered his weapon, grabbed my arm with his uninjured hand, and pulled me to my feet. His face was set in stone, his eyes blazing with a cold, terrifying fury.
“We go now,” he commanded, his grip iron-tight.
“My… my shoes—”
“No time!”
He hauled me out through the splintered doorway, sprinting down the narrow third-floor corridor. Behind us, the sounds of shouting and heavy boots echoed up the stairwell as Dante’s men arrived to secure the building.
We burst through the exterior doors of the apartment building into the freezing South Boston air. An idling black SUV was parked directly on the sidewalk, its rear door already swung wide open.
Dante practically shoved me into the back seat, diving in right behind me and slamming the door shut.
“Drive!” Dante roared at the driver.
The SUV squealed tires, launching forward into the slush-covered street just as three more armed men spilled out of the alleyway behind us, firing wildly into the empty air.
I sat trembling in the leather-lined interior of the speeding vehicle, clutching my knees, gasping for air as the South Boston skyline blurred past the tinted windows.
Dante sat beside me, breathing heavily, pressing a hand against his side where fresh blood was beginning to seep through his makeshift bandage.
“Are you… are you okay?” I whispered, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
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Dante turned his head, looking at me with an expression that completely melted away the terrifying syndicate boss persona, leaving behind something raw, human, and intensely protective.
“You saved my life twice in twenty-four hours, Harper,” Dante said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. “It’s about time I returned the favor.”
