I snapped.
“Protect the child!”
Vivien agarró mi solapa de chaqueta, con los ojos desesperados.
“¡Lorenzo, no puedes enfrentarte a él solo!
¡Él no vino solo!
¡Matteo Bellini envió a sus mercenarios privados con él!”
“This is my house,” I said, my voice dropping into a register of icy, absolute authority.
“And I am the Head of the Duca Family.”
I shoved Vivien gently toward Rocco.
“Go!”
Rocco grabbed Vivien’s arm, pulled her into the laundry room’s secret emergency exit hatch, and secured the iron door behind them.
I was left standing alone in the silent, vaulted stone corridor.
I checked my weapon.
Fifteen rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber.
I pulled a spare magazine from my belt, placed it in my coat pocket, and began walking calmly toward the main entrance of the estate.
The rain outside had turned into a full-scale deluge, hammering furiously against the stained-glass windows of the grand foyer.
