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“Damn it!” Val growled. This situation’s getting out of control.”
Gage wiped at his face. “How many did you kill?”
“Nine and we took one prisoner,” Val breathed, “that makes thirteen of the bastard’s dead and at least sixteen fled, but it’s far from over.” He turned to Carson. “Do you have any lumber, nails, wire, anything?
“Yes,” Carson said. “The construction workers left materials in the garage.”
“Good, because they took out the dining room windows and we have considerable damage. Gage, you keep the women up here until we can make the repairs.”
“I’m pretty good with a hammer,” Carson said, “I can help.”
“Thanks,” Val said, his voice trailing as he scanned the bodies littering the bloody floor.
“No, thank you, thank all of you,” Carson said. “We’d be dead by now without…” his words trailed, eyes locked on the stairs. “Frankie,” he gasped, “are you hurt, son?”
“No,” Frankie retorted, a sword in hand, his face splattered in blood. “I killed him,” he said. He turned and dashed away.
Val stepped over a body, heading for the stairs. “Torin’s gonna be pissed that we have casualties.”
“Speaking of Torin, where is he?” Carson called out.
Val paused momentarily and turned his head to one side. “Meeting with an associate, but I phoned him, he’s on his way.”
~~~
While twelve Affiliates completed the repairs to Hampton Manor, others removed the dead and scrubbed the upstairs of blood. Lisa, Carson and the rest of the family, minus Frankie, gathered in the living room bunched tight, guns-in-hand. Nervous eyes scanned the windows as fear spread upon them.
Atop the ornate mantel, the antique clock, dressed in polished wood with an ivory face suddenly chimed eight a.m. Lisa flinched.
“It’s okay,” Anna whispered, though she herself looked completely horrified.
Just shy of the piano, the Iridescent prisoner, captured minutes earlier, sat cordoned by sixteen Affiliates. Lisa fixated on him, shackled in iron. She bit at her lip, an internal battle waging and though part of her wanted to beat his face and beg for news of Donja, she was taken aback as Frankie, with a sword in hand joined them. She felt a deep yearning to take him in her arms, but he offered only a slight glance before taking a stance with the guards, steely eyes locked on the prisoner. Lisa watched him, so much like his father, his skin, hair, the slant of his eyes.
The prisoner moved, iron chains clinking. Lisa analyzed him head to toe. He was big, nigh on seven feet tall with an evilness none could deny. Heavily tattooed with bulging muscles and a shaved head, he sat with his chin tilted to one side, bleeding from a deep slash to his right cheek. His lips periodically trembled contempt, rage, be it what may, a shiny gold tooth reflecting the flames.
Time dragged as minutes turned to hours.
The front door opened, voices penetrating the foyer, one of which was Torin’s. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief, for truth be known, she had faith in Torin Mancini. She glanced up just as he entered the room, a stranger at his side, well-dressed, with a defiant glint in his eyes.
“Everyone okay?” Torin asked.
“Yes,” Lisa gushed. “Thank God you’re here.”
Torin gave her a nod before he turned and with a raised hand, gestured to the man beside him. “I would like to introduce you all to Antonio,” he said. “This is Lisa, Donja’s mother, Carson, her stepfather, Makayla, Gage’s girlfriend and Anna, Donja’s grandmother.”
“Hello,” Antonio said, his eyes roaming face to face with a smile that flatlined as he beheld Anna.
Anna dropped her head.
Antonio swallowed hard and then, ever so slowly he pulled his eyes from Anna and made his way across the room to the prisoner, but not before he affectionately rustled Frankie’s hair.
Frankie gazed at him with admiration, something Lisa had not witnessed since his transformation.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Rubio.” Antonio said with an impudent grin as he squatted in front of him. “Looks like you’re bleeding all over your tattoos.”
Rubio spat on him.
“Who are you working for?” Antonio asked, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
