I say a silent prayer he'll be okay and make my way upstairs, gripping the heavy iron fireplace poker.
If Morello needs me, I'll be there.
I'll do anything to protect my daughter, and the man who's kept us safe and freed us from Gerald.
I creep up the cellar stairs, the poker clenched in my sweaty palm.
My ears strain for any indication of how the confrontation outside is unfolding.
More shots ring out, closer and more rapid now. I freeze, willing my pounding heart to steady.
Was that a cry of pain? Morello's? Luchenko or one of his men? I can't tell.
Cautiously, I crack open the cellar door.
Morning light streams in, dust dancing incongruously in the sunbeams.
I slide through the opening, poker at the ready.
As I enter the kitchen, a figure suddenly fills the window, barreling toward the back door.
Morello.
He crashes through, slamming the door behind him. His shirt is torn, and his face smudged with dirt and blood. But his eyes are alert, flickering to me and then scanning the room for threats.
"We've got to move," he says tersely. "Luchenko's men flanked me. He'll be coming."
On cue, the front door splinters open.
Luchenko strides through, ruthless and scarred face set in a mask of cold rage.
He levels his gun at Morello.
"You just had to make this difficult," he hisses. "I tried to end it cleanly."
Morello raises his hands, shifting to place his body between me and the gun.
"It doesn't have to go down like this," he says evenly. "We can talk."
Luchenko lets out a sharp laugh. "The time for talking is done." His finger tightens on the trigger.
I react on pure instinct, adrenaline surging through me.
With a guttural cry, I charge forward, swinging the poker with all my strength.
It connects with Luchenko's wrist with a sickening crack.
His shot goes wild, the gun falling from his grasp.
Before he can recover, I swing again, striking the side of his head.
He collapses heavily.
Morello blinks at me in shock. "Remind me not to make you angry," he says, giving me a wry, relieved grin.
Morello moves quickly, securing Luchenko's hands behind his back with a zip tie.
Luchenko lets out a low groan, starting to stir back to consciousness.