Chapter 14 - The Ambush
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The gala ended just after midnight. Nora and Luca walked out the grand front doors of the hotel, the cold night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.
“You handled yourself perfectly,” Luca murmured, wrapping his heavy overcoat around her bare shoulders.
“I felt powerful,” Nora admitted, leaning into his warmth as they waited for the valet. “For the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the shadows.”
A sleek, armored black SUV pulled up to the curb. The driver, a trusted Castellano soldier named Marco, stepped out and opened the rear door.
Luca helped Nora inside, sliding in right beside her. The heavy bulletproof doors slammed shut, sealing them in a quiet, leather-scented cocoon. Marco merged the SUV smoothly into the late-night Manhattan traffic, heading toward the secured Castellano estate on Long Island.
Nora rested her head on Luca’s shoulder, utterly exhausted. The adrenaline crash was hitting her hard. Luca wrapped his arm securely around her waist, pulling her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Sleep, mia regina,” Luca whispered. “I have you.”
They had just crossed the Queensboro Bridge, entering a quiet, industrial stretch of road, when the peaceful silence of the cabin was violently shattered.
A massive, rusted utility truck suddenly blew through a red light at the intersection ahead, accelerating wildly.
“Boss, hold on!” Marco roared, slamming his foot on the brakes.
The heavy SUV skidded, the anti-lock brakes grinding terribly. The utility truck didn't stop. It slammed brutally into the front passenger side of their vehicle.
The impact was deafening. Airbags deployed with a violent explosion of white powder. The heavy SUV was pushed sideways across the wet asphalt, slamming hard against a concrete divider.
Nora screamed, thrown violently forward, saved only by her seatbelt and Luca’s massive arm instinctively wrapping around her chest, pinning her to the seat.
“Get down!” Luca yelled, his voice cutting through the ringing in her ears.
Before the dust had even settled, the back doors of the utility truck burst open. Four men wearing tactical gear and ski masks poured out into the street. They didn't shout warnings. They raised automatic weapons and opened fire.
The deafening roar of gunfire erupted. Bullets sparked and pinged against the armored glass of the SUV, spider-webbing the windows but failing to penetrate the reinforced steel.
“They have armor-piercing rounds!” Marco shouted from the front seat, drawing his weapon and ducking below the dashboard. “The glass won't hold forever!”
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Luca didn't panic. His face was a mask of cold, terrifying, absolute focus. He drew a heavy, customized pistol from his shoulder holster, his eyes tracking the muzzle flashes outside the cracked windows.
The ambush had begun.
