Chapter 8 - The Viper’s StrikeThree days passed under heavy security. The estate was locked down like a military fortress. High-powered floodlights illuminated the snowy grounds at night, and armed guards patrolled every corridor.
Despite the atmosphere of impending doom, inside Nora's suite, a quiet peace held. Lorenzo visited her every evening, checking on her health and bringing updates from the doctors. The cold, ruthless Mafia boss had transformed into a gentle protector whenever he was in her presence. Nora found herself looking forward to those quiet evening moments, feeling a warm connection growing between them that transcended their different worlds.
On the fourth night, a heavy fog rolled over the cliffs, obscuring the perimeter lights.
Down in the security control room, the primary surveillance screens suddenly flickered and went dark.
"What the hell?" a guard muttered, tapping the glass. "Line three is down. Check the generator!"
Before the guard could stand up, the door swung open. A silenced gunshot echoed softly—phfft!—and the guard collapsed to the floor.
Victor Moretti stepped into the control room, stepping over the body. Behind him walked five masked mercenaries armed with automatic rifles.
"Cut the main power," Victor ordered coldly. "And make sure Lorenzo doesn't reach the east wing."
Inside room 4B, Nora was sitting by Giovanni’s bed, reading him a story. Suddenly, the lights flickered and died completely, plunging the mansion into total darkness. The soft hum of the medical equipment stopped.
Nora gasped, standing up in the dark. "John?"
Emergency red backup lights clicked on a second later, casting a bloody crimson glow across the room. From the hallway came the distant sound of raised voices, followed by the sharp, terrifying pop of muffled gunfire.
Nora’s blood ran cold. They're inside.
She ran to the oak door, locking the heavy brass bolt. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she looked around the room for a weapon, her mind racing to protect Giovanni and her unborn baby.
Outside in the grand corridor, chaos erupted. Lorenzo and Marco engaged Victor’s mercenaries in a fierce firefight. Muzzle flashes illuminated the dark hallways as bullets tore through priceless paintings and shattered marble statues.
"He's going for his father!" Marco yelled over the deafening gunfire, dropping a mercenary with a shot to the chest.
"Cover me!" Lorenzo roared, sprinting through the crossfire toward the east wing.
Back in room 4B, the heavy oak door shuddered under a violent kick.
BANG!
Nora screamed, backing away toward Giovanni’s wheelchair, clutching a heavy iron fire poker in her hands.
BANG!
The lock gave way, and the door burst open. Victor stepped into the crimson light, holding a silenced pistol, his face twisted in a murderous sneer.
"End of the line, maid," Victor spat, raising his gun directly at Nora's chest. "Lorenzo isn't here to save you this time."
Nora stood her ground, trembling violently, holding the iron poker over her head. "Don't touch him! Stay away from him!"
"Move aside," Victor growled, shifting his aim toward Giovanni. "The old man dies tonight. The empire belongs to me."
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As Victor pulled his trigger back, something unbelievable happened.
Giovanni Moretti—a man believed to be completely paralyzed for five years—suddenly leaned forward in his wheelchair. His left hand shot out with terrifying speed and incredible force, grabbing Victor’s wrist in an iron grip.
