Chapter 9 - The Ambush
Two weeks later, the war finally boiled over.
It happened on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Pamela was riding in the back of the armored suburban with Donovan, coming back from a pediatric checkup in Lincoln Park with the triplets in their car seats behind her.
As the SUV turned onto a quiet, tree-lined street near the estate, a heavy delivery truck pulled out of an alley, blocking the road completely.
Before Donovan could reverse, a second black sedan slammed into the rear bumper of the suburban, pinning them in place.
“Down!” Donovan roared, pulling his firearm from his shoulder holster. “Miss Hayes, get down between the seats!”
Pamela didn't hesitate. She threw herself over the triple car seats, shielding Leo, Noah, and Maya with her own body as the glass of the side windows shattered under a hail of automatic gunfire.
The babies screamed in terror, their high-pitched wails filling the cabin.
“Shh, shh, Mommy’s here!” Pamela cried, holding them tightly beneath her body, her arm bleeding where a stray glass shard had sliced through her coat. “I’ve got you! Mommy’s got you!”
Donovan kicked his door open, firing broadside into the rainy street, returning fire against four masked gunmen advancing from the delivery truck.
A second later, the roar of a heavy engine shattered the air.
Roman’s personal armored sedan tore down the street at eighty miles an hour, slamming directly into the side of the attackers’ vehicle with a crunch of metal and shattered headlights.
Roman exploded out of the driver’s seat, a heavy rifle in his hands, his face a terrifying mask of absolute rage.
The gunfight lasted less than forty seconds.
Roman and his men swept through the street with lethal, military precision, dropping all four attackers onto the wet pavement before the smoke even cleared.
Roman dropped his rifle, tearing open the back door of the suburban.
“Pamela!” he roared, his voice trembling with a terrifying, primal panic.
Pamela looked up from the floorboards, her face pale, her hair messy, covered in tiny bits of shattered glass.
“They’re okay,” Pamela sobbed, her body shaking violently as she lifted her hands to show him the uninjured babies. “They’re okay, Roman, I covered them!”
Roman reached in and hauled her out of the vehicle into his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest.
He held her so hard she could barely breathe, his face buried in her neck, his body trembling with an intensity she had never felt from him before.
“You’re bleeding,” Roman whispered, his hands wildly scanning her face, her shoulders, her arms.
“It’s just glass,” Pamela cried, pressing her cheek against his wet coat. “It’s just glass, Roman.”
Roman looked at the three babies in the backseat, who were reaching through the broken window toward them.
“Mom! Dad!” Leo cried, his tiny voice cutting through the smell of gunpowder and rain.
Roman froze. He looked down at the little boy, then back at Pamela.
May you like
He reached into the vehicle, unbuckled all three children, and gathered them into his arms alongside Pamela, holding his family tightly against his chest in the middle of the rain-soaked street.
“Donovan,” Roman said, his voice dropping into a register of total, absolute destruction. “Call the captains. We end the Moretti family tonight.”
