Chapter 3 - The Interception
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The knocking grew heavier, splintering the wood of the doorframe. Norah dropped the phone and grabbed the heaviest thing in her bedroom—a solid brass lamp.
"Open up, Miss Witman!" a harsh, unfamiliar voice barked from the hallway. "We just want to talk!"
That wasn't Marco. Norah had met Marco. He was Damian’s head of security, a giant of a man who moved silently and spoke rarely. The man in the hallway sounded like a street thug. The Romano family. They had spies everywhere in the city, even inside the Beluchcci tower.
The door gave way with a deafening crash, the deadbolt tearing out of the frame. Two men stepped into the small apartment, holding suppressed pistols.
"Well, well. The secretary," the first man sneered, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto her. "Boss wants a word with you."
Norah gripped the brass lamp, her knuckles turning white. "Get out of my apartment."
The man laughed, stepping forward. "Put the lamp down, sweetheart. You're coming with us."
Before the man could take another step, the shadows in the hallway seemed to detach themselves. A massive hand grabbed the thug by the back of his collar, pulling him violently out of the apartment. A sickening crunch echoed in the stairwell, followed by a heavy thud.
The second man whipped his gun around, but a suppressed gunshot tore through the room, striking him in the shoulder. He collapsed, screaming.
Marco stepped over the threshold, his tailored suit completely unruffled. He holstered his smoking weapon and looked at Norah, then at the brass lamp in her hands.
"Mr. Beluchcci sent me," Marco said, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "Grab your bag, Miss Witman. We are leaving."
Norah looked at the groaning man on her rug, then at Marco. Her hands were shaking so violently she dropped the lamp.
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"Are you taking me to him?" she asked.
"I am keeping you alive," Marco replied. "Right now, he is the only one who can do that."
