Chapter 10 - The Ambush
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The next morning, the tension in the house was suffocating. Emily poured Santino’s coffee, her hands trembling slightly as she set the cup down.
“You look pale, Emily,” Santino noted, signing a document without looking up. “Did you not sleep well in the servant’s quarters?”
“I slept fine, sir,” she lied.
“Good. We are going to the city today. I have a meeting at the bank.”
Emily nodded, grabbing her notepad and coat.
They rode in a massive, specially modified armored van. Santino’s wheelchair was locked securely into the floor mechanisms. Emily sat in a plush leather seat opposite him. Two heavily armed guards sat in the front.
The drive into Providence was quiet. Santino stared out the tinted window, his jaw set in a hard line.
“You are very quiet today,” Santino said, breaking the silence.
“Just preparing for the meeting, sir.”
“You are a terrible liar, Emily.”
Before Emily could respond, the van slammed violently to a halt, throwing her forward against her seatbelt. The sound of screeching tires and crunching metal echoed loudly.
“Ambush!” the driver roared.
Automatic gunfire erupted, pelting the reinforced glass of the van like deadly hail. The heavy thud of bullets striking the armored plating was deafening.
Emily screamed, covering her head with her arms.
Santino didn't flinch. He hit a button on his armrest, releasing the locks on his wheelchair. He drew a heavy, sleek pistol from a holster hidden beneath his jacket.
“Get down on the floor!” Santino commanded her.
Emily threw herself onto the carpeted floor of the van.
Outside, the guards were returning fire. The sound was deafening, terrifying chaos.
“It’s the Morrettis!” the driver yelled over the gunfire. “They’ve blocked the road with a garbage truck! We’re boxed in!”
“Reverse!” Santino yelled, firing through a specialized gun port in the side door.
The van lurched backward, the engine roaring, but a massive jolt rocked the vehicle as another car slammed into them from behind. They were trapped.
One of the front windows shattered under concentrated fire. The driver slumped over the steering wheel, blood spraying across the dashboard.
The passenger guard fired wildly before a bullet caught him in the shoulder, knocking him back.
The attackers were moving in on the van.
Emily looked up. Santino was exposed, his chair unable to maneuver in the tight space. If the attackers opened the side doors, he was a sitting duck.
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Emily didn't think. She scrambled across the floor, ignoring the bullets pinging off the metal walls. She grabbed the heavy manual override lever for the reinforced steel partition that separated the cab from the back of the van and yanked it down with all her weight.
The thick steel plate slammed shut, sealing them in the back, plunging them into darkness just as the front doors were violently ripped open by the attackers.
