Chapter 6 - THE SIEGE OF WESTCHESTER
The house shook violently. High-pitched security alarms began to wail throughout the estate, their red strobe lights casting terrifying shadows across the hallway walls.
Inside the bedroom, the boys woke up screaming in terror.
"Claire! Get inside!" Gabriel barked, his calm demeanor vanishing instantly as he pulled a heavy sleek handgun from a hidden holster beneath his sweater.
I sprinted back into the bedroom. Julian and Sam were crying, clutching each other on the floor, while Leo was standing near the bed, his tiny body shaking violently.
"Mommy! Mommy!" Sam sobbed, reaching his arms out to me.
"I'm here! I'm here, baby!" I dropped to my knees, gathering all three boys into my arms, pressing their faces against my chest so they couldn't see the flashing red lights.
Gabriel stepped into the doorway, his gun held low and ready. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black remote device, pressing a red sequence button.
Heavy, motorized steel security shutters suddenly began to descend over every window in the room, sealing us off from the outside world with thick, impenetrable plating. The deafening sound of gunfire—automatic rifles echoing across the front lawn—filtered through the thick walls.
"Viktor!" Gabriel yelled into his earpiece. "Status!"
"It's Moretti's men, boss!" Viktor’s voice crackled through the comms amidst the sound of glass shattering downstairs. "They knew the perimeter layout! They used heavy charges on the gate! They're pushing into the main foyer!"
Gabriel’s eyes burned with cold, lethal fury. He looked at me, kneeling on the floor with our three terrified sons.
"They knew the perimeter layout because Serena gave it to them," Gabriel realized, his voice dangerously low. "It was a coordinated trap. She wasn't acting alone tonight."
"Gabriel, don't leave us!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face as the sound of boots pounding up the marble staircase echoed down the hall.
Gabriel walked over to us, dropping to one knee. He grabbed my face, pressing his lips firmly against mine in a hot, fierce kiss that tasted of iron and promises.
"Listen to me, Claire," Gabriel said, looking deep into my eyes. "This room is a panic bunker. The walls are reinforced steel. The door locks from the inside. Once I step out, press the lock button on that wall panel. Do not open it for anyone except me or Marco. Do you hear me?"
"Gabriel—"
"I am going to end this tonight, Claire," Gabriel promised, his gray-green eyes blazing with the terrifying authority of a king defending his throne. "Nobody touches my family."
He turned to the three boys, reaching out to touch each of their heads. "Be brave, boys. Look after your mother."
"Daddy, don't go!" Leo cried out.
Gabriel offered them a firm, confident smile. "Daddy will be right back."
He stood up, racked his pistol’s slide with a crisp clack, and stepped out into the hallway.
"Lock it!" he ordered.
I lunged for the wall panel, hitting the heavy magnetic lock button. The thick steel door slid shut with a heavy thud, sealing us inside the quiet, safe darkness of the panic room.
Outside, the sound of gunfire erupted into a terrifying roar.
I pulled the boys onto the large mattress in the corner, covering them with my own body, whispering nursery rhymes into their hair to drown out the sounds of the war raging outside our door.
Ten minutes felt like ten centuries. The gunfire surged, then began to fade, replaced by sporadic pistol shots and shouting men.
Then, total silence.
I lay there in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs, holding my breath, clutching my boys as tightly as I could.
After five agonizing minutes, a heavy knock echoed against the steel door.
Three slow beats, followed by two fast ones.
Gabriel’s private signal.
The heavy steel door hummed as the magnetic lock disengaged, sliding open.
Gabriel stood in the doorway. His charcoal sweater was torn at the shoulder, his face smeared with soot and blood. In his hand, he held his empty gun. Behind him, Marco and four armed guards were securing the corridor, clearing away the debris.
Gabriel looked into the room, his gray-green eyes finding mine.
"It's over," Gabriel said softly, his voice trembling with exhaustion. "They're gone."
I let out a ragged sob, rising from the bed and throwing my arms around his neck. Gabriel wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me off my feet, holding me as if he would never let go again.
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The boys scrambled off the bed, running over to wrap their tiny arms around Gabriel’s legs.
Gabriel looked down at his three sons, tears cutting clean tracks through the soot on his cheeks, and for the first time in five years, our shattered family was whole.
