I dress quickly. Black trousers, a tight black turtleneck, sensible boots. I grab the matte black Glock 19 he gave me, checking the chamber with a satisfyingclack, and tuck it into the waistband at the small of my back.
The West Wing study has been transformed into a nerve center. Three massive monitors dominate the mahogany desk, displaying GPS trackers attached to Orlando’s boats and Dante’s decoy convoy. Matteo left two tech-savvy soldiers to monitor the encrypted radio frequencies.
I walk in, pouring myself a cup of black coffee from the pot in the corner.
"Status," I demand, taking Cassio's leather chair.
"The decoy convoy is two miles from Pier Seven, Signora," the younger guard, Luca, reports. "They are making a lot of noise. Revving engines, keeping their headlights blaring. The Bratva are taking the bait. We have intercepted Russian chatter. Volkov is pulling his perimeter guards to fortify the main avenue."
"And the boats?" I ask, my heart kicking against my ribs.
"Holding position in the inlet, exactly as you advised," Luca says, pointing to three blinking green dots on the screen. "They breach Holding Bay Four in twelve minutes."
I stare at the green dots. One of them is Cassio. He is out there on the freezing water, bleeding through his stitches, preparing to storm a fortified dock. My stomach twists into a painful knot,but I force myself to breathe steadily. I cannot fall apart. If the men see me shake, they will lose faith. I am the Lady of this house.
The radio crackles. Dante’s voice fills the room, distorted by static and adrenaline."Contact! Contact! Heavy resistance at the main gate! Engaging the enemy!"
The sound of automatic gunfire bursts through the speaker. I grip the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles turn white.
"Hold them there, Dante," I whisper to the empty room. "Keep their eyes on you."
The clock ticks down. 2:55 AM. 2:57 AM.
"Shift change at the harbor," I announce, my voice echoing in the tense silence of the study. "Cameras are panning east."
"Boats are moving," Luca confirms, the green dots surging forward on the digital map. "They are in the bay. Breach in three... two... one."
We wait. The radio channels dedicated to the strike team are completely quiet, maintaining stealth until the very last second.
Then, the comms explode.
It isn't Dante. It isn't Cassio.
It's the estate's internal security frequency.
"Breach at the south gate!"a frantic voice yells."A single vehicle rammed the service entrance. We have an intruder on the grounds!"
I stand up, my chair scraping harshly against the hardwood. "Who the fuck is hitting the estate right now? Volkov committed his men to the port."
"I don't know, Signora," Luca says, his fingers flying across his keyboard to bring up the external cameras. Most of them are still damaged from the last raid, displaying nothing but static. "It looks like one man. He slipped past the outer wall."
Footsteps echo in the hallway outside the study. Heavy, hurried steps.
"Lock the door," I order the two guards.
Before Luca can even reach for his weapon, the heavy oak doors burst open.
Dario Lombardi stands in the threshold.
He looks like a hunted animal. His sandy blond hair is plastered to his forehead with freezing rain, his expensive suit ruined and torn at the knee. He is holding a silver pistol, his hand shaking violently as he points it between Luca and the other guard.
"Drop the weapons," Dario pants, his eyes are wide and manic. "Drop them right now, or I blow her head off." He shifts his aim directly at my chest.
The guards hesitate, looking at me for the call.
"Do it," I say, my voice completely devoid of panic. I keep my hands resting visibly on the mahogany desk.
Luca and the other guard slowly lower their rifles to the floor, kicking them away.