Chapter 5 - The Glass Treachery
The attack came on a Tuesday afternoon, when the sun was high and the glass of the conservatory was hot to the touch.
Ava was sitting at the white wicker table with Sophie, a box of watercolors spread between them. They were painting a picture of a large, blue dolphin jumping out of an ocean that looked remarkably like the La Jolla pictures Ava had seen in her nursing school journals.
"Miss Ava," Sophie said, her brush hovering over the paper. "Why does Daddy have so many friends with guns?"
Ava paused, her heart skipping a beat as she looked at the little girl’s serious face. "Your daddy is a very important man, Sophie. He has to take care of a lot of people, and sometimes those people need protection."
"Like the knight in the story?"
"Exactly like the knight," a voice interrupted from the doorway.
It wasn't Roman.
It was a woman. She was slender, beautiful, with long, white-blonde hair and eyes the color of winter frost. She was wearing a cream silk trench coat, a small leather handbag hanging from her forearm, and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Behind her stood two men in gray suits—men Ava hadn't seen among Dante’s regular security detail.
It was Victoria Moretti.
"Victoria," Sophie gasped, her small body freezing against Ava’s side.
"Hello, little bird," Victoria smiled, stepping into the conservatory, her heels clicking sharply against the white tile. She looked at Ava, her gaze sweeping over the grey scrubs with an expression of pure, unadulterated contempt. "And you must be the little mouse from the diner. The one who’s been playing house with my fiancé."
Ava stood up, her arm shifting instinctively to place her body between Victoria and the child. "You need to leave this room, Ms. Moretti. The security team—"
"The security team is currently being re-allocated by my father’s lawyers at the front gate," Victoria interrupted, pulling a small, silver-plated derringer from her leather bag with a movement so casual it looked like she was reaching for a lipstick. "Roman is a very smart man, but he forgot that the Hawthorne Ridge HOA requires a dual-signature registration for all private security extensions. My father signed the revocation ten minutes ago. You’re on city property now, sweetheart."
She leveled the small gun directly at Ava’s chest. "Give me the girl."
"No," Ava said, her voice flat and cold as ice. She didn't look at the gun. She looked at Victoria’s eyes, seeing the desperation behind the frost. "You stabbed her father in front of her. You left him to die. You don't get to touch this child ever again."
"I didn't come here to argue with a girl who smells like frying oil," Victoria hissed, taking a step forward, her finger tightening on the small silver trigger.
Before she could take a second step, the large glass dome of the conservatory shattered into a thousand pieces.
A figure descended from the high iron rafters on a tactical line—it was Marcus, his rifle already firing before his boots hit the tile. The two men in gray suits went down instantly, their bodies crashing into the white wicker furniture.
Victoria screamed, turning her weapon toward the rafters, but a heavy hand caught her wrist from behind, twisting the steel until a loud crack echoed through the space.
Roman Black stood in the doorway of the conservatory, his face a sheet of white fury, his black silk brace visible beneath his open coat. His amber eyes were burning with a lethal, terrifying light as he hurled Victoria across the floor, sending her sliding into the broken glass and spilled watercolors.
"Dante!" Roman roared, his voice shaking the remaining glass in the ceiling. "Clear this filth out of my sight! And call Sal Moretti. Tell him his daughter is coming home in a box if he doesn't surrender the Cicero lines by midnight!"
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Ava dropped back to her knees, pulling Sophie into her arms as the guards swarmed the room, her eyes locked onto Roman’s face. He was breathing hard, a small trickle of dark blood starting to seep through the white linen of his shirt where his sutures had torn under the strain of the struggle.
He didn't look at Victoria. He walked straight to Ava, his large hands reaching down to lift both her and Sophie off the floor in a single, desperate motion, his chest heaving against Ava’s shoulder as he held them close against the cold Chicago wind that was now blowing through the broken roof.
