Page 61 of The Hidden Heir

“Six of them!” one of our bodyguards calls out from somewhere nearby.

Everything happens so fast, I barely have a moment’s breath to register the details. I see Caroline and my stepfather running, then ducking for cover. Nicolo Gamberetti is on the floor, his wife crying on top of him.

“Nicolo!” she screams and wails until one of the gunmen reaches her. “No, please!”

Her plea for mercy falls on deaf ears as he pulls the trigger.

I whimper and hide my face in my husband’s chest for a few seconds, struggling to breathe as the horror unfolds.

“Spread out!” Luca shouts at the bodyguards.

Other men from the Camorra rise with weapons of their own.

The attackers are clad in black with balaclavas covering their faces. I only see their cold eyes, lit orange with every flash of their automatic weapons. Time stands still for what feels like a wretched eternity.

Luca fires a couple of shots while simultaneously holding me close. He shields me with his full frame. Bullets aimed at us from one angle hit one of the overturned tables; Luca covers the rest.

“My God, Luca!” I cry out, shaking in terror.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

Then POP-POP.

Two more shots.

One of the attackers gets tackled by a Mancini. I see the glint of a knife driven right into his throat, the blood spraying as the sparkle of life drains from the man’s eyes.

“Flank them!” Luca shouts.

Our security crew is expert. They move like shadows around the scattering crowd until they flank the four men still standing. Two of them are busy changing the clips on their weapons, while the other two fire at will.

Only they’re not firing randomly, I quickly realize.

Luca’s men take the other two out with bullets to the head and torso, at least five or six in each. The other two are searching for particular targets and only shoot when they see them. To my horror, Carmine Caruso runs past us, only to be gunned down and fall flat on his face.

“Shit!” Luca mutters, then fires back.

He wings one of the remaining attackers. The other one gets a bullet in the back, then his neck snapped by the head of our security crew.

It’s over, but what’s left behind is beyond tragic.

Luca assesses the situation until the surviving lieutenants from the Camorra’s syndicates confirm that all the attackers are down. Only one survived, but he doesn’t look like he has long to live, as he lies on the beige marble floor, bleeding out.

The silence that descends on us in the aftermath is only cut by the sharp gasps and cries of those who have lost someone tonight. Yet in the midst of it all, I find strange relief in still being alive, in having had Luca by my side, protecting me the whole time as if nothing else mattered.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his worried eyes searching my face.

He puts his gun back in its holster hidden beneath his jacket, then gently touches me almost everywhere to make sure I wasn’t hurt. Aside from a few scrapes on my knees and elbows, however, I seem to be fine.

The adrenaline subsides, and I begin to shake like a leaf in the wind.

“I… I’m fine, I think,” I manage with my teeth chattering. “But what… what the hell…”

“It was a targeted hit,” our head of security says as he hurries over with a stern look on his face. “The Mancinis and the Collasimos have secured the whole place, but the cops will be here any moment now.”

“Of course,” Luca scoffs. “It’s not a party until the fucking police shows up to muddy everything up.” Then he realizes something. “Enzo,” he says, nervously looking around as I cling to him for dear life, my knees weak, my heart throbbing. “Where’s Nicolo Gamberetti?”

Enzo’s gaze drops for a moment. “He’s dead, Boss.”