Page 53 of Unspoken Ties

I looked at the bedroom door. I could probably get it open, because it was just a cheap lock, but then what? There were security cameras and tons of guards patrolling the place with guns. I wouldn’t make it past the end of the hallway.

The sound of bullets piercing the calm night broke me from my thoughts. I sprang from my position, heart pounding against my chest like a wild beast inside a tight cage. The night was no longer silent, replaced by the screams of confusion and fear from our household guards. Dillon’s house was under attack.

Did Ettore come for me?It was the only rational answer, but I somehow still couldn’t believe it. I rushed to the window, my heart caught in the throes of hope and dread. I could see figures darting about in the dimly lit courtyard below, the flash of gunfire illuminating their movements. They were moving with military precision towards the mansion; it had to be Ettore and his men.

Overwhelmed by emotions, I pressed my hand to my mouth as I watched the scene unfold. Ettore was truly risking everything, his life included, to save me. A pang of guilt stabbed through my heart.

Suddenly, a guard burst into the room. “You’re coming with me,” he strode towards me, reaching for my arm.

“No, I’m not!” I remembered what Ettore had taught me, and sidestepped at the last minute. I lashed out, striking him in the side of the neck with a swift elbow. The man crumbled to the floor, gasping for breath as I kicked away his gun.

I had too much pent up anger from my situation. I drove my heel repeatedly into his face, smashing in his nose and splattering blood across the once pristine floor. He let out a wheeze as his body went limp, and I stopped, panting heavily.

As my anger subsided, panic set in. Did I just…kill a man? I crouched down over the man and checked for a pulse, relief washing over me as his chest slowly rose and fell. He wasunconscious, but alive. Stepping over him, I quickly picked up the gun from the floor, my hands shaking as I held onto it.

Outside, the violence raged on. The mansion was under siege and I was alone, stuck in an unfamiliar environment with a weapon I barely knew how to use. The sound of bullets striking the mansion walls was deafening, like thunderclaps on a stormy night. Shouts of guards and intruders alike were nearly drowned out by the relentless symphony of death echoing outside.

Then, I heard a very familiar voice. It was Ettore, calling out a command to one of his men. I gripped the gun tighter at the sound of his voice, my knuckles turning white. I knew I had to get to him. This mansion was huge, and it could take him hours to find me with all the men trying to stop him.

I peeked my head outside the bedroom door. The hallway had been thrown into chaos, with sculptures fallen and paintings askew as men had rushed to stop Ettore. I took a nervous breath in - it didn’t look like they were here anymore.

As cautiously as I could, I slipped out into the corridor, clutching the gun against my chest. The luxurious carpet beneath my bare feet seemed to absorb my steps, turning them into whispers against the booming cacophony outside.

The grandeur of the mansion seemed even more obscene amidst the violence. There were Dillon’s men lying on the floor, blood blooming around them. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved through rooms, shrouded in the thick smell of gunpowder and fear.

Suddenly, I heard Ettore’s voice once more, even closer this time.

“Ettore!” I called, and ran towards him, but was quickly yanked back by the collar.

“You’re not leaving,dear,” Dillon sneered into my ear. Having him this close to me made me want to vomit as his foul breath washed over me. His grip on my collar was so tight it felt likeclaws digging into my skin. I tried to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened.

“Let me go, Dillon!” I hissed, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled against his grasp.

“Or what?” he retaliated with a cruel laugh, as his lips stretched to a sinister grin. His hand reached out and knocked the gun from my trembling grip.

Suddenly, a gunshot echoed thunderously inside the mansion, silencing the world momentarily. I cringed at the sound, bracing for a pain that strangely didn’t come. The grip on my collar loosened considerably, and I turned to see Dillon falling backwards, a look of shock frozen on his face.

Standing at the end of the hallway, gun still smoking from the recent shot, was Ettore. His eyes were ablaze with anger and defiance. He was a vision of deadly elegance amid the chaos and bloodshed. His grey suit was stained with sweat and blood, some of his own, some not.

“Are you alright? Why do you have blood on you?” Ettore tried to keep his voice calm, but he was panicked.

“It’s not mine,” I said, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion and trying to speak with my throat closed up. I didn’t realize how much of the guard’s blood had gotten on me.

“Good.” His voice was rough, a little strained, but the relief in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You,” he said, directing his attention to Dillon. He was lying on the ground, coughing up blood and gasping for breath. “Are lucky I’m in a hurry.” He turned around to look at me and added softly, “Don’t look, Liria.”

I should have listened to him. He put the gun right between Dillon’s eyes and pulled the trigger. A metallic click echoed throughout the room, followed by a deafening blast of the gunshot. The man’s brains exploded against the light tile floors and white walls, and I closed my eyes tightly, trying to blockout the gruesome sight. The smell of iron and gunpowder mixed with a chilling silence falling over the room.

“Move to the car,” he said into his earpiece.

His usually calm demeanor had turned to steel, his dark eyes flashing dangerously under the flickering chandelier in that bloody hallway. He placed a protective arm around me, guiding me forward. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at the lifeless body we were leaving behind.

As we reached the ornate double doors of the mansion, I turned my head, unable to resist a backward glance. The once proud manor had devolved into a desolate battlefield, its walls smeared in crimson and the floor littered with fallen bodies. The grandeur had been reduced to unrecognizable carnage.

Outside, a van was idling, its engine thrumming in the hushed silence of the night. As I was ushered into the back, Ettore started talking to his four friends.

“There’s a lotta bodies in there, boss,” someone I didn’t recognize said.

---