Chapter 42 The Seige
"I’m not hiding," I said, the words slipping out. "I can help."
"Not with a child in the room," Dante snarled. "Get down!"
I grabbed Jasmine and pulled her behind the massive oak desk. It was solid wood, thick enough to stop a bullet.
"Is it the smoke men?" Jasmine whispered, her voice trembling. She buried her face in my sweater.
"No," I said fiercely, stroking her hair. "Just bad men. No smoke. Papa is going to fix it."
I held her tight, but my mind was racing. I had the code. 04-21-88-12. I repeated it in my head like a mantra. I needed to survive this attack so I could use it.
Dante moved to the heavy wooden door of the archives. He cracked it open, listening.
From the main hall downstairs, the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence.
Then, shouting in rough Sicilian dialect.
Dante looked back at us. In the moonlight, his face was a mask of cold, beautiful violence.
"Stay," he commanded.
He slipped out into the hallway.
I pulled Jasmine closer, covering her ears with my hands. "Sing with me," I whispered. "Dormi, dormi, bel bambino..."
She hummed the lullaby against my chest, her small body shaking.
Outside the room, hell broke loose.
BOOM.
A shotgun blast echoed up the stone stairwell. Then the sharp, rhythmic pop-pop-pop of Dante’s handgun.
I heard shouting. A scream of pain that was cut short.
Then, the heavy thud of a body hitting the stone floor.
"Donatello! The flank!" Dante’s voice roared, authoritative and calm amidst the chaos.
More gunfire erupted, this time automatic. The Russos had brought machine guns.
Bullets chipped against the stone walls of the fortress. I heard the distinct zing of ricochets.
I squeezed Jasmine so hard I was afraid I’d bruise her. "It's okay, it's okay, just fireworks."
I looked at the desk above me. If Dante died tonight, the secret died with him. No... the secret lived with me. But if Dante died, the Russos would come up those stairs. They wouldn't care about codes. They would kill us both.
For the first time since I arrived, I prayed for the Devil to win.
The gunfire stopped abruptly.
Silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating.
I strained my ears. I heard footsteps. Heavy boots crunching on broken glass. They were coming up the stairs.
One set of footsteps? Or two?
I looked around the desk. There was a heavy brass letter opener lying on the rug where it had fallen.
I grabbed it. It wasn't a knife, but it was sharp enough to take an eye.
The footsteps reached the hallway outside the archives.
They stopped.
The door creaked open.
I tensed, ready to lunge, prepared to stab the first thing that came through that door that wasn't Dante.
A figure stepped into the sliver of moonlight.
It was Dante.
He was breathing hard. His white shirt was splattered with fresh red stains that bloomed like poppies.
He had unslung his injured arm to fight, and the bandage was soaked through, but he didn't seem to feel it.
"Dante," I breathed.
"It is clear," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of adrenaline. Six men. Local opportunists. They are dead."
He holstered his gun and walked toward us.
He knelt, wincing slightly as his knee hit the floor. He didn't touch Jasmine; his hands were dirty, but he leaned close.
"Did you hear that, Jas?" he asked softly.
Jasmine peeked out from my sweater, her eyes wide. She nodded.
"That was me," Dante said. "Making sure nobody ever comes into our house again. You are safe. I am the monster that scares the other monsters away."
Jasmine sniffled. She reached out and touched his face, her small fingers grazing his jaw.
"You're bleeding, Papa."
"It's not my blood," he said simply.
He looked at me. The adrenaline was fading from his eyes, leaving behind a hard, crystalline resolve.
He looked at the letter opener in my hand. A flicker of pride crossed his face.
"You were ready," he said.
"Always," I answered, dropping the brass blade. I didn't tell him I was ready to use it on him if I had to.
"This settles it," Dante said, standing up. He offered me his clean wrist to help me up, avoiding his bloodied hand.
"Settles what?" I asked, pulling Jasmine up with me.
"We cannot leave," Dante said, his voice grim.
"What? You said we had to go."
"The Russos blocked the causeway," Dante said, walking to the window and looking down. "They blew up their own truck on the bridge. We are trapped on the rock."
I joined him at the window. Far below, a plume of black smoke rose from the narrow stone bridge that connected the fortress to the mainland. The only road out was gone.
"How long until it's cleared?" I asked.
"Days," Dante said. "Maybe a week. We need heavy machinery."
He turned back to me. His face was hard, set in lines of grim determination.
"We are stuck here, Lilith. And if the Russos know we are here, Rinaldi knows. He might choose this opportunity to attack, and the gate is broken."
He looked at the ledger on the desk, then back at me.
"Forget the Key," he said. "Right now, our only priority is survival. We need to fortify this place. Can you shoot?"
"I can learn," I said.
"Good," Dante said. "Because I have a feeling we are going to need every gun we have."
He walked to the door.
"Donatello!" he shouted down the stairs. "Inventory the armory. We are under siege."
He looked back at me one last time.
"Get Jasmine to bed," he ordered. "And then come to the main hall. We have work to do."
I watched him go. A cold smile touched my lips as I looked back at the bookshelf where I had hidden the truth.
He was distracted. He was focused on the war outside the walls.
He had forgotten about the war inside.
Let them come, I thought. Let them distract him. While he fights the world, I’ll take his kingdom.