Chapter 29
DANTE
The first breach comes at the east wall, exactly where I predicted.
Bogdan's men use charges to blow a hole in the perimeter. The explosion rocks the estate hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling. But we're ready. My men are in position, firing before the smoke clears, cutting down the first wave of attackers before they make it ten feet inside.
I don’t know how the fucker got so many men on his side, but I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised. He’s been siphoning money to do exactly this. Paid mercenaries. I push down the anger from the betrayal. I’ll have to deal with that later. Right now, my focus is on staying alive.
"East wall breach contained," Mikhail reports over the radio. "Three hostiles down, two retreating."
"West wall is under assault," Sergei calls out. "They're using the vehicles for cover."
I'm moving through the courtyard with Andre and six others, using the planned routes that give us maximum coverage while minimizing exposure.
The rose garden where Hannah and Mila played yesterday is torn apart by gunfire.
Oddly, my first thought is how sad Mila will be to see all her pretty flowers destroyed.
"Hannah's status?" I demand into my radio.
"Moving to the panic room with Mila," Alexei responds. "We're—fuck, rear breach! They're coming through the service entrance!"
My blood runs cold. The panic room is near the service entrance. If they've breached there, Hannah and Mila are trapped between the attackers and their only safe haven.
"Fall back!" I order Alexei. "Get them out of there. Use the secondary route to the garage."
"Copy. Moving now."
I redirect half my team toward the house while continuing to engage the attackers at the perimeter.
Bogdan's strategy is clear—create chaos everywhere, stretch our defenses thin, then strike at the center where Hannah and Mila are vulnerable. Bogdan knows where the panic room is. He knows I’d be moving them in that direction.
He’s using my distraction to get to them. It’s exactly what I would do.
"Boss, we have a problem," Alexei's voice crackles over the comms. "They breached the service entrance with explosives. The route to the panic room is blocked."
"Where are you now?"
"Main hallway, second floor. Hannah has Mila. We're moving toward the west staircase but there are hostiles between us and the exit."
I'm already running, leaving Andre to coordinate the exterior defense. Every second counts. Every moment Hannah and Mila are exposed is another chance for everything to go wrong.
The house is chaos. Smoke, gunfire, shattered glass crunching underfoot. I take the stairs three at a time, following the sound of Alexei's weapon firing in controlled bursts.
I round the corner and see them.
Hannah has Mila pressed against her side, shielding the child with her own body.
Alexei is ahead of them, engaging two attackers who've made it to the second floor.
And coming up the west staircase—the route they need to take—is another man in tactical gear, his weapon raised and aimed directly at my daughter.
Hannah sees him the same moment I do.
Without hesitation, she steps between the attacker and Mila, raising the gun I taught her to shoot. The weapon looks too big in her hands, but her stance is solid, her grip correct. Everything I taught her.
She fires.
The shot hits the attacker in the chest, and he goes down hard. Hannah fires again, taking the head shot and making sure he is not a threat. I feel something shift in my chest—pride mixed with terror mixed with love so fierce it threatens to overwhelm everything else.
"Go!" I shout, and they move.
Alexei leads the way down the stairs, clearing each corner with military precision. Hannah keeps Mila close, one hand clutching the girl, the other still holding the pistol. My daughter is crying but silent, trained by years of drills to stay quiet during emergencies.
I cover their retreat, dropping two more attackers who try to follow. The sounds of battle are everywhere—below us, around us, the entire estate turned into a warzone.
But my family is moving toward safety, and that's all that matters.
"Garage," I order Alexei. "Get them in an SUV and ready to move. If the estate falls, you drive and you don't stop."
"Understood."
I watch them disappear around the corner, every instinct screaming at me to follow. I have to fight the urge to stay with them and personally ensure nothing touches them. But I'm needed elsewhere. The battle isn't over. If I don't coordinate the defense, we'll lose everything.
Hannah looks over her shoulder at me. I see what she doesn’t say.
She’s demanding I stay alive.
“Go!” I shout again.
The panic room is no longer an option. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again, but I know they will be safe. Alexei will make sure of it.
"Status report," I demand over the radio.
"East wall secure," Mikhail responds. "All hostiles neutralized or retreating."
"West wall is holding," Sergei adds. "They're pulling back."
"North perimeter clear. They're regrouping near the main gate."
“Sergei, Mikhail, change of plans, Alexei handled the girls. You’re with me.”
I make my way to the front of the house, where I have the best view of the battlefield.
Bogdan's attack is falling apart. His men are either dead, wounded, or retreating.
The element of surprise is gone, and now they're discovering what I've known all along—my men are better trained, better positioned, and more motivated.
They're not fighting for power or ambition. They're fighting for family.
"Movement at the gate," Andre calls out. "Vehicle approaching fast—it's Radimir!"
My uncle's black sedan barrels through what's left of the gate, clearly intending to flee before his coup completely collapses. But I'm not letting him escape to try this again another day.
"Cut him off," I order. "Non-lethal if possible. I want him alive. Find Bogdan. I saw him earlier.”
Two SUVs move to intercept, boxing in Radimir's sedan before he can reach the main road. He tries to ram through, but my men are ready. Bullets shred his tires, and the sedan lurches to a stop.
Radimir emerges with his hands up, his expression a mix of fury and calculation. Even now, even caught, he's looking for angles.
"Dante," he calls out. "We can discuss this. Come to an arrangement—"
"The time for discussion ended when you tried to kill my family."
"Your family?" He laughs bitterly. "A woman you've known for weeks and a bastard not even born yet? That's not family. That's weakness."
The urge to put a bullet in him is almost overwhelming. But I force myself to stay calm, to think strategically rather than emotionally. I have to let the council handle this.
"Secure him," I tell my men.
The hunt for Bogdan intensifies as gunfire echoes through the corridors. I navigate the chaos, my focus solely on finding the man who threatened everything I hold dear.
Bogdan emerges from a darkened hallway; his face twisted in a snarl of defiance. "You can't stop me, Dante," he taunts, raising his weapon.
I fire without hesitation, the crack of gunshots mingling with the acrid scent of smoke filling the air.
The adrenaline pulses through me as I fall to the ground feeling the searing pain as a bullet slams into my arm.
I push through, determination fueling every movement.
I roll into the living room, moving behind what’s left of my couch.
"This ends here, Bogdan," I call out.
"You think you can defeat me?" Bogdan sneers, his words laced with arrogance. I can hear him coming into the room.
I push through the burning pain in my arm and raise my gun, using the cover of the couch. His next shot goes wide.
I aim for his chest and pull the trigger. The bullet hits his thigh, but he doesn’t drop. The man is operating on jealousy and rage.
"You were family!" I shout, anger overriding tactical sense for just a moment. "How could you betray us like this?"
"Family?" He laughs, the sound bitter and twisted. "My father should have been pakhan! They chose an American-raised son over the man who actually understood this world. I've been waiting years for this moment."
He fires again. The bullet grazes my side, tearing through fabric and skin. The pain is white-hot, but I've been shot before. I know how to compartmentalize, how to keep moving when my body wants to shut down.
I return fire, forcing him to duck behind a chair. The living room where Mila plays—has become a battlefield. Bullet holes mar the walls. Blood stains the pristine floors.
This is what my world does. It destroys everything beautiful.
"Hannah's pregnant," I call out, trying a different tactic. "Your own blood. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"It means leverage I didn't plan for." Bogdan shifts position. I catch a glimpse of his face. There's no remorse there, no hint of the cousin I grew up with. “I will kill her and your bastard.”
He breaks from cover, sprinting toward the west corridor. I fire, but my injured arm throws off my aim. The shot hits the wall behind him. He disappears around the corner. The fucker is moving fast despite the bullet to his leg.
I pursue, ignoring the protest of my wounded body. Each step sends fresh pain radiating through my arm and side, but I push through it. Hannah and Mila are safe for now, but they won't truly be safe until Bogdan is dead.
The west corridor leads to the library. Bogdan is using the tall shelves for cover, firing blindly around corners.
"You can't win this!" he shouts. "The elders will never accept your bastard half-breed child as heir!"
The words are designed to wound, to make me angry and reckless. Instead, they crystallize my resolve. This ends tonight. Not just Bogdan's threat, but the entire toxic system that values bloodlines over loyalty, tradition over love.