Kidnapping the Assassin: The Mafia Don’s Fatal Mistake

The Orphan Brigade

 Chapter 41

**[Cassian]**

Gunshot wounds don’t bleed like they do in the movies. They seep. They pulse with the rhythm of a failing heart, soaking through fabric with a heavy, terrifying warmth. 

I tore the silk bow from Elara’s ruined emerald gown, wrapping it brutally tight over the bullet hole near her collarbone. She sucked in a sharp, hissing breath through her teeth, her head falling back against the concrete wall of the cracked bunker. 

"Sorry," I muttered, my voice tight. I knotted the makeshift tourniquet, keeping my hands as steady as possible. 

"Don't apologize for keeping my blood on the inside," she managed to say. A sheen of cold sweat coated her pale forehead, but her gray eyes remained entirely lucid. 

I turned to Lily. The girl was still clutching Leo, her knuckles white, her whole body shaking violently. 

"Lily, look at me," I commanded, keeping my tone low and even. I waited until her frantic blue eyes locked onto mine. "You are going to stay exactly three steps behind me. You don't look left. You don't look right. You only look at the back of my jacket. Do you understand?"

She gave a jerky, terrified nod. 

I stood up, drawing my spare pistol with my left hand. I offered my elbow to Elara. She gripped it, using my leverage to pull herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled for a fraction of a second before the sheer, terrifying willpower of the Viper locked her knees into place. 

We moved out of the ruined study, stepping over the debris. 

The heat radiating from the ground floor was blistering. The eastern wing was fully engulfed, the flames licking at the antique velvet wallpaper. Thick, black smoke banked heavily against the vaulted ceilings, forcing us to stay in a low crouch as we navigated the servant corridors. 

The sound of automatic gunfire echoed relentlessly from the front of the estate. 

We reached the secondary landing just above the kitchens. Two Rossi soldiers lay dead near the stairwell, but standing over them was Luca. My Capo was covered in soot, feeding a fresh magazine into his assault rifle. 

Luca spun around, his weapon raised, before realizing who it was. He lowered the barrel, exhaling a harsh breath. 

"Don Rossi. Thank God," Luca coughed, wiping blood from a shallow cut across his brow. "I thought you were buried in the east wing."

"It takes more than a collapsing ceiling to kill me," I stated, stepping past him to check the sightline down the stairs. "Where are Matteo and the main force?"

"Holding the grand foyer. We pushed the Guild assassins back from the courtyard, but..." Luca hesitated, his eyes darting to Elara, then to the baby in Lily’s arms. 

"But what?" Elara demanded, her voice a sharp, cutting whip despite her injury. 

"They didn't retreat, Donna," Luca said grimly. "They pivoted. The remaining hostiles breached the west wing. They sealed the grand ballroom."

My blood instantly ran cold. 

The ballroom. 

When the perimeter was breached, I had ordered my men to evacuate the gala guests into the reinforced ballroom and lock the doors. It was supposed to be the safest room in the house. But inside that room were the Dons of the Five Families, dozens of European senators, and their families. 

"Salvatore and Moretti are in there," I growled, the geopolitical nightmare materializing in my head. 

"Arthur wasn't just here to kill me," Elara realized, leaning heavily against the wall. Her eyes widened with sudden, horrific clarity. "If the Italian Dons die under the Rossi roof... the alliance shatters. The Five Families will blame us. It will trigger a global civil war."

Arthur had planned the ultimate contingency. If he couldn't kill the king, he would destroy the kingdom. 

"Luca, take four men. Escort my wife and children to the underground garage. Put them in the armored transport and do not stop driving until you reach the Rome safehouse," I ordered. 

"No," Elara snapped. 

"Elara, you are bleeding out"

"I am not leaving you to fight a dozen Guild ghosts alone!" she fired back, pushing off the wall. "They will carve your men to pieces. You need me."

"I need you alive!" I roared, the fear for her completely fracturing my temper. I grabbed her uninjured shoulder, pulling her close. "If you die tonight, I burn the rest of the world to ash. Go with Luca."

She stared at me, the argument dying on her lips. She knew I meant every word. 

"Five minutes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "If you aren't out of that ballroom in five minutes, I'm coming back for you."

I kissed her. Hard, fast, and desperate. "Deal."

I turned my back, sprinting down the smoky corridor toward the west wing. I didn't wait for Luca to assemble a squad. I didn't have time. If the Guild breached those doors, the syndicate died tonight. 

The hallway leading to the grand ballroom was oddly quiet. The smoke was thinner here. 

As I rounded the final corner, my boots crunched on shattered glass. 

The massive, gold-leafed double doors of the ballroom were chained shut from the outside with heavy industrial steel links. Piled against the base of the doors were six bricks of military-grade C4. 

Sitting casually on a marble bench directly across from the rigged doors was a single figure. 

It wasn't a hardened mercenary. It was a young woman. 

She couldn't have been older than nineteen. She wore black tactical gear, her dark hair pulled back into a tight, severe knot. She was tossing a silver bullet into the air and catching it, her face a mask of complete, terrifying apathy. 

She looked exactly like Elara did in the old security files I had pulled from the Guild archives. A perfect, emotionless killing machine. 

I raised my pistol, aiming directly at her forehead. 

"Step away from the doors," I commanded. 

The girl caught the silver bullet, closing her fist around it. She didn't look at my gun. She looked past my shoulder, down the dark hallway. 

"He said she was defective," the girl murmured. Her voice was flat, carrying an eerie, hypnotic cadence. "He said she let a man make her soft."

I heard a soft shuffle of footsteps behind me. 

Elara stepped out of the shadows. She hadn't gone with Luca. She had followed me, her good hand gripping her sidearm, her face pale but completely hardened. 

The young girl smiled. It was a chilling, hollow expression. 

She raised a small, black detonator, holding her thumb directly over the trigger mechanism wired to the C4. 

"Hello, big sister," the girl whispered. "Arthur sends his regards."