Chapter 7 - THE SIEGE OF BROOKLYN
Gunfire erupted through the grand halls of the Russo estate like thunderclaps.
The deafening roar of automatic weapons tore through the quiet sanctuary of the home, shattering antique mirrors, tearing through plaster walls, and filling the air with the smell of gunpowder and burning wood.
Carmine Gallow had launched an desperate, suicidal assault. Enraged by the FBI raid that had decimated his empire, he had gathered his remaining loyal soldiers for a final, violent strike against the heart of the Russo family.
“Paulie!” Vincent yelled, dropping to one knee beside his bleeding underboss.
“I’m alright... boss...” Paulie wheezed, pressing a bloody hand against his side. “They came through the basement entry... killed the guards at the gate. There are at least fifteen of them.”
Vincent looked back at Nora. She was crouching beside Camila’s chair, her arms wrapped tightly around the terrified older woman, shielding her body with her own. Her eyes were wide with terror, but she wasn't screaming.
“Nora!” Vincent commanded, his voice sharp as steel. “There’s a safe room behind the bookcase in my study! Take my mother and go! Now!”
“What about you?!” Nora cried out over the sound of breaking glass and screaming men in the hallway.
“I’m going to end this,” Vincent said, his eyes burning with a lethal fire. “Go!”
Nora didn't argue. She helped the trembling Camila out of her chair, hauling her to her feet with fierce determination.
“Come on, Camila,” Nora whispered fiercely, keeping her body low. “We have to move.”
Vincent stood up, racking the slide of his pistol. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a small silver key to Nora.
“Lock it from the inside,” Vincent instructed. “Don't open it for anyone unless you hear my voice.”
Nora caught the key. She looked at Vincent, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Don't you dare die out there, Vincent Russo!” she shouted over the din of battle.
A faint, cold smile touched Vincent’s lips. “Not today.”
He turned and strode out of the conservatory into the smoke-filled hallway, firing three rapid shots that dropped two invading Chicago soldiers before they could reach the door.
Nora guided Camila through the back service corridors, avoiding the main halls where the gun battle was raging. The sound of shouting, heavy boots, and continuous gunfire reverberated through the floorboards.
Camila was sobbing, confused and terrified by the noise.
“Thomas! Where is Thomas?!” Camila cried out, her legs giving out beneath her.
“Thomas is ahead!” Nora lied desperately, pulling Camila’s weight onto her shoulder. “We’re going to meet him! Keep moving, Camila! Please!”
They reached Vincent’s grand study at the end of the east corridor.
Nora shoved the heavy double doors open, dragging Camila inside. She rushed to the massive mahogany bookcase, searching frantically for the release mechanism Vincent had shown her weeks ago.
Her hand found the hidden iron lever behind a leather-bound volume. She pulled it with all her strength.
The bookcase groaned, swinging open to reveal a heavy steel door set into the concrete wall.
Suddenly, a heavy boot kicked the study doors open behind them.
Nora spun around, her heart sinking into her chest.
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Standing in the doorway was Carmine Gallow, his leather coat soaked in blood, a smoking pistol held in his right hand. His face was twisted into a grotesque, manic grin.
“Well, well, well,” Carmine sneered, stepping into the room. “Look what I found. The old bat... and her brave little maid.”
