Chapter 6 - The Shield of the Underworld
Before the first bullet could pierce the air, Royce’s military instincts kicked in. He spun his body around, completely enveloping Della within his massive, powerful frame, using his own back as a human shield as he lunged forward into the clinic’s concrete foyer.
A hail of bullets shattered the heavy glass doors behind them, a shower of glittering fragments raining down onto Royce’s jacket. He felt a sharp, burning agony flare through his left shoulder as a high-caliber round grazed his flesh, but he didn't even flinch. His only focus was the woman crying out in terror beneath him.
"Stay down, Della! Don't move!" Royce roared, his voice carrying the terrifying authority of a commander in a war zone. He pulled a sleek, fully automatic pistol from his shoulder holster, turning toward the entrance with an expression of pure, demonic fury.
Silas and the Calloway guards opened fire from behind the armored SUV, their precise, disciplined shots quickly cutting down three of the advancing Maroni gunmen. The street became a chaotic battlefield of smoke, muzzle flashes, and the smell of burning rubber.
From across the street, inside a blacked-out sedan, Cordelia Vance watched the carnage through a pair of binoculars. Her face was twisted with a horrific, manic glee. "Kill her! Just shoot through the doors and kill her!"
Inside the foyer, Marcus Maroni himself rushed through the shattered entrance, his rifle aimed directly at the corner where Della was crouching. "Calloway! Your empire ends today!"
But before Marcus could pull the trigger, Royce stepped directly into his line of sight. Royce didn't try to find cover. He strode forward through the smoke like an immortal god of death, his pistol barked three times in rapid succession.
The first bullet struck Marcus in the kneecap, dropping him to the floor. The second shattered his right wrist, sending the rifle clattering away. The third tore through his shoulder, pinning him completely to the blood-stained marble tile.
The remaining gunmen, seeing their leader taken down so effortlessly, broke formation and fled back toward the box truck, but Silas’s team intercepted them, forcing them to drop their weapons and surrender on the pavement.
The ringing silence returned to the street, broken only by the distant wail of police sirens.
Royce turned around immediately, ignoring the blood soaking through his own shirt sleeve as he rushed back to Della. She was trembling violently, her face pale, both hands clutched tightly around her stomach.
"Della! Are you hurt? Talk to me!" Royce gasped, dropping to his knees and pulling her into his lap, his hands checking her body for any signs of injury.
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"The... the baby," Della whispered, a sob tearing from her throat as she clutched his neck. "I was so scared, Royce. Not for me... for the baby. Are you okay? You're bleeding!"
"It’s just a scratch," Royce breathed, his voice trembling with a rare, profound vulnerability as he held her tight against his chest. "I’m fine. The baby is fine. I promise you, Della, the people who did this will not live to see the sunrise."
