Chapter 6 - THE BLOODY HEEL
He was working with them.
The realization slammed into Elena a fraction of a second before her instincts took over.
She didn't scream. She didn't warn him. She simply threw her entire body weight against Silas, her shoulder slamming into his chest just as the glass of the chandelier above them exploded.
CRACK.
The sniper’s bullet tore through the space where Silas’s heart had been a microsecond before, burying itself into the marble floor.
Panic erupted. The elegant auction devolved into a stampede of screaming billionaires and mobsters. Champagne flutes shattered. Tables flipped.
Silas grabbed Elena’s hand, his grip like a steel vise, and pulled her behind a massive stone pillar.
"You saved me again," he breathed, his eyes wide, scanning the chaos.
"Stop keeping score and get us out of here!" Elena shouted over the din of gunfire.
"Victor!" Silas barked into his wrist mic. "Balcony! The Russians have the high ground!"
Gunfire erupted from the service doors as Silas’s men flooded the room, returning fire toward the balcony. Silas pulled a sleek black handgun from his holster and turned to Elena.
"Take off the heels," he ordered.
Elena kicked off the painful stilettos, her bare feet hitting the cold, glass-strewn marble.
"Stay behind me. We move on three."
They didn't make it to three.
A massive figure stepped out from the smoke near the exit. It was the Russian oligarch, holding a suppressed submachine gun. He smiled, his gold teeth catching the dim emergency lights.
"Vance," the Russian boomed. "Julian sends his regards."
He raised the gun.
Elena didn't think. She reached down, grabbed one of her discarded stilettos by the toe, and threw it with all the force and precision of a dealer pitching a card across a long felt table.
The heavy, steel-reinforced stiletto heel struck the Russian squarely in the center of his right eye.
The giant roared in agony, his hands flying to his face, dropping the gun.
Silas didn't hesitate. Two silenced shots to the Russian’s chest, and the giant crumpled to the floor.
Silas looked at the dead oligarch, then down at Elena’s bare, bleeding feet. He stared at her with a mixture of absolute shock and something dangerously close to awe.
"Remind me never to play cards with you," Silas muttered, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the exit doors.
They sprinted through the dank service tunnels, the sounds of the firefight echoing behind them. They burst out into a narrow, rain-slicked alley where a nondescript black sedan was waiting, engine idling.
Silas threw her into the passenger seat, jumped behind the wheel, and floored it. They tore off into the labyrinth of the city, leaving the chaos behind.
For ten minutes, neither of them spoke. The adrenaline slowly began to recede, replaced by a cold, aching exhaustion.
Elena pulled her knees to her chest, shivering in the expensive emerald gown. The adrenaline crash was brutal. Tears welled in her eyes as the image of Toby’s empty bedroom flashed in her mind.
Silas pulled the car into a dark, abandoned parking garage beneath a derelict factory. He killed the engine. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of rain drumming against the roof.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to her. In the shadows, the sharp angles of his face were softened. He looked tired. He looked human.
Without a word, Silas reached into the backseat and pulled out a heavy woolen blanket. He draped it gently over Elena’s trembling shoulders.
Then, he reached down, took a first-aid kit from the glove compartment, and clicked on the small overhead dome light.
"Give me your feet," he said softly.
"I’m fine," Elena sniffled, pulling her legs back.
"You ran through broken glass, Elena. Give me your feet."
Reluctantly, she extended her legs. Silas took her cold, bloodied feet into his large, warm hands. He used alcohol wipes and tweezers with surprising gentleness, picking out the tiny shards of glass.
"Why did you lie about Julian?" Elena asked, her voice quiet in the small space.
Silas paused, a tweezers poised over her heel. "I didn't lie. I thought he was dead. Seven years ago, the Bratva cornered him in a warehouse. They set it on fire. I couldn't get there in time. I found a body wearing his ring."
He wiped a smear of blood from her arch. "He must have made a deal with them. Faked his death, let me build the empire, wait until the time was right to strike and take it all."
"He has my son," Elena whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "If he’s working with the Russians... Silas, they have no mercy."
Silas looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. The space between them in the car suddenly felt very small, very charged.
"Julian is a monster," Silas said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "But he is methodical. He won't hurt Toby as long as he thinks Toby is the key to getting that SD card from you. You are Toby's shield right now."
He finished wrapping a bandage around her foot and slowly slid his hand up her ankle, letting it rest gently on her calf. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her exhausted body.
"I will tear this city down to the bedrock," Silas swore, leaning closer, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "I will burn the Bratva to ash. I will bring your boy home."
Elena looked at this man—a mafia boss, a killer, a man who lived in the shadows—and realized she felt safer with him than she ever had with her own father.
"I believe you," she whispered.
Suddenly, Silas’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a video message.
Silas opened it. Elena leaned in to look.
The video showed a cold, concrete room. In the center, sitting on a metal chair, was Toby. He looked terrified, crying silently, clutching his stuffed dinosaur.
Behind him stood a man in a dark coat, his face obscured by the shadows. But resting on Toby’s small shoulder was a hand. A hand with a green snake tattoo winding around the wrist.
A voice, distorted but chillingly smooth, spoke from the video.
"Hello, little brother. I want my ledger. Come to the old shipyard at dawn. Bring the dealer. Or I start sending the boy back in pieces."
The video ended.
Elena screamed, clapping her hands over her mouth.
May you like
Silas stared at the black screen, his face draining of all humanity. The man who had gently bandaged her feet was gone. The apex predator had returned.
"Dawn," Silas said, racking the slide of his handgun. "Then we end this."
