Chapter 5 - Blood on the Marble
"Run!" Adrian roared, firing three more suppressive shots toward the marble pillar where Dante was pinned.
I didn't hesitate. I scooped Emma into my arms, wrapping her tightly in the pink fleece blanket, and sprinted toward the narrow hallway leading to Adrian’s private study.
Behind me, the sound of splintering wood, heavy gunfire, and deep, guttural shouts echoed through the estate. Adrian was fighting like a demon possessed, taking on Dante’s remaining mercenaries with brutal, terrifying efficiency.
I reached the heavy oak doors of the study, kicked them open, and slammed them shut behind me. My heart was hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
0-4-1-2.
I scrambled toward the massive mahogany bookcase, my hands trembling violently as I located the concealed keypad hidden behind a faux leather-bound book. I punched in the four digits.
With a heavy hydraulic hiss, the bookcase swung forward, revealing a small, reinforced steel safe room illuminated by soft strip lighting. Inside was a bank of security monitors, a medical supply kit, and emergency communication gear.
I stepped inside and hit the inner close button. The heavy steel door began to glide shut.
"Not so fast, sweetheart."
A heavy combat boot jammed into the door frame, stopping the steel mechanism mid-slide.
A hand reached around the edge, grabbing the steel frame and forcing the door back open. It was the third mercenary—a massive man with a scarred neck and tactical goggles, blood dripping from a wound on his shoulder.
He lunged into the small space, reaching for my throat.
Instinct and pure adrenaline took over. I didn't have a gun, but my emergency nursing training had taught me human anatomy with surgical precision.
As he grabbed my collar, I shifted Emma safely behind my left shoulder, grabbed a heavy stainless steel adrenaline tray from the medical counter, and slammed the sharp metal edge directly into the side of the mercenary's neck—hitting the carotid sinus reflex point with maximum force.
The man gasped, his eyes rolling back as his blood pressure plummeted instantly. He staggered backward out of the doorway.
Before he could recover, I kicked him squarely in the chest with all my strength. He fell backward onto the study floor, and I slammed the safe room lock button again.
The heavy steel door sealed shut with a profound, airtight clack. The digital indicators lit up green: SECURED.
Safe inside, I collapsed onto the floor, pulling Emma close to my chest. She was crying now—a small, shrill sound that was the sweetest music I had ever heard. It meant her lungs were working. It meant she was alive.
I turned to the wall of security monitors.
The cameras around the mansion showed the carnage outside. Two of Dante’s men lay motionless in the foyer. But on the main screen, I saw Adrian.
He was bleeding from a graze on his side, his shirt ripped and stained with crimson. He had Dante pinned against the massive stone fireplace, his hand clamped tightly around Dante’s throat.
Dante was struggling, his face turning purple, his hands clawing at Adrian’s iron grip.
"Where is Vance?" Adrian’s voice came through the safe room’s audio monitor, terrifyingly calm. "Where is the doctor?"
Dante choked out a bloody laugh. "It’s... too late, Adrian... Vance is already at the private clinic in Evanston... preparing your rival, Don Falcone’s son, for the transplant... The heart wasn't for Maya's sister... It was bought by Falcone... Vance framed the girl... to cover the illegal organ harvest..."
My blood ran cold.
Lucia wasn't getting a heart. Vance was using her condition to cover up an illegal organ deal for the rival Falcone crime syndicate—and he was going to let my sister die on the operating table tonight while blaming her death on "surgical complications" while I rotted in prison!
On the monitor, Adrian’s eyes turned cold as ice.
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"Thank you for the information, Dante," Adrian whispered.
With a swift, devastating twist of his wrist, a sickening snap echoed through the audio feed. Dante Moretti went completely limp, dropping to the marble floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
