Chapter 3 - Shattered Glass
The thunderous crash of automatic fire ripped through the cellar. Heavy wooden barrels splintered, spraying aged vintage and shards of oak across the floor.
"Down!" Dante lunged, tackling little Lily from behind the barrel, shielding her small frame with his body as rounds tore through the masonry above his head.
Grace did not scream. While Dante expected panic, the nine-year-old dropped into a low crouch, rolling across the stone floor toward the rack where Dante's suppressed pistol had skidded. She reached under the iron grating by touch alone, her fingertips wrapping around the checkered grip in less than a second.
Elena was already moving. Discarding the wooden staff, she unclipped twin silver trench knives from under her long skirt. She vaulted over a split barrel as two masked gunmen in tactical gear dropped through the shattered window.
The first intruder raised an assault rifle, but Elena slashed across his wrist tendons, spinning behind his back to drive her second blade directly into the seam of his body armor. The man collapsed without a sound.
The second gunman swung his weapon toward Elena, but a sharp, deafening pop echoed from the floor.
A 9mm bullet punched through the gunman’s throat. He stumbled backward, choking on his own blood, before collapsing against the damp stone wall.
Dante turned his head, disbelief tearing through his senses. Grace held the pistol with two hands, arms locked, recoil absorbed cleanly through her shoulders. Smoke curled from the muzzle. Her milky eyes remained wide, fixed on the empty space ahead of her, guided purely by the sound of boots on glass.
"Grace..." Dante choked out, his voice trembling.
May you like
She lowered the weapon methodically, applying the safety switch with her thumb. "One left. On the roof."
Above them, through the wooden ceiling beams of the manor's ground floor, heavy tactical boots pounded across the hardwood floor, moving directly toward the cellar's inner staircase.
