Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD ON THE DIAMONDS
Meredith slowly descended the concrete steps, the suppressed pistol never wavering from my chest.
She moved with the calm, terrifying elegance of a woman who had planned this exact moment for a decade. The dim beam of the flashlight caught the massive diamond engagement ring Dante had given her, flashing mockingly in the dark.
“Step away from her, Jenna,” Meredith ordered, stopping five steps from the bottom.
I stood my ground, shielding Sarah’s battered body behind me. My heart hammered against my ribs, but the paralyzing fear was suddenly replaced by a fierce, maternal rage.
“You won’t get away with this,” I said, my voice steady. “Dante will tear the city apart to find you.”
Meredith laughed softly. “Dante is currently speeding toward an abandoned warehouse across town, chasing a tracker I planted under Sarah’s car. By the time he realizes he’s been chasing a ghost, Sarah will be dead, Ava will be on a plane to Zurich, and you will be a tragic casualty of a home invasion.”
She raised the gun, aiming directly at my face.
“Move,” she said, her voice dropping all pretense of civility.
Sarah weakly grabbed the back of my apron. “Run, Jenna,” she rasped. “Save Ava.”
I didn’t move. I tightened my grip on the heavy, jagged shard of broken wine glass hidden in my palm.
“Why didn’t you just kill him?” I asked, stalling. “If you want revenge for your father, why not just shoot Dante in his sleep? Why go through the engagement? Why hurt Ava?”
Meredith’s eyes darkened, a flash of genuine pain breaking through her icy mask.
“Death is too easy for Dante Costa,” Meredith spat. “Ten years ago, he didn’t just kill my father. He took my family’s legacy. He took our home. I grew up in hiding, watching him play the respectable businessman with my family’s money. He loves playing the devoted father to that sickly little girl.”
She took another step down.
“I don’t just want him dead,” Meredith whispered. “I want him to feel exactly what I felt. I want him to come home to an empty house. I want him to know his daughter is gone forever, and there is nothing his money or his power can do to bring her back. And then, when he has nothing left to live for… I’ll put him out of his misery.”
She aimed the gun at Sarah.
“Say goodbye, Sarah,” Meredith sneered.
I didn't think. I reacted.
I threw the heavy silver pocket watch I still held in my left hand directly at Meredith’s face.
She flinched, raising her arm to block the heavy metal projectile. The gun fired with a soft pffft, the bullet ricocheting off the stone wall behind me, spraying concrete dust into my hair.
As she stumbled back on the stairs, I lunged forward and drove the shard of broken glass deep into her thigh.
Meredith shrieked, a horrific sound of pain and rage. She kicked out blindly with her designer boot, catching me in the ribs.
I flew backward, crashing into a wooden wine rack. Heavy glass bottles shattered around me, soaking my uniform in red wine that smelled like blood.
Meredith fell to her knees on the stairs, clutching her bleeding leg. She desperately fumbled for the gun she had dropped in the struggle.
I scrambled to my feet, my side screaming in agony. I couldn't fight her. I had to get to Ava.
I bolted up the stairs, leaping over Meredith as she grabbed my ankle. I kicked free, slamming the heavy steel door behind me and throwing the deadbolt just as Meredith threw her weight against the other side.
Bang! Bang!
The muffled sound of her gun firing against the reinforced steel echoed in the kitchen. The door would hold, but not forever.
I sprinted through the dark mansion toward the grand staircase.
My mind was a chaotic blur. The guards outside Ava’s door were Meredith’s men. I couldn't just run up there. They would shoot me on sight.
I stopped at the base of the stairs, hiding in the shadows of a massive marble pillar.
I looked up. The two guards were standing outside Ava’s bedroom, speaking in low voices.
“The boss said to grab the kid as soon as Meredith signals,” one of them muttered.
“Flight leaves in two hours. We need to move soon,” the other replied.
I looked frantically around the foyer. I needed a distraction. I needed a weapon.
My eyes landed on the glass display case in Dante’s study, just off the main hall. Inside rested Dante’s grandfather’s antique double-barreled shotgun. It was a family heirloom, supposedly unloaded, a showpiece.
I slipped into the study, grabbed a heavy bronze paperweight from the desk, and smashed the glass case.
The sound was deafening in the quiet house.
I grabbed the antique shotgun. It was heavy, cold wood and steel. I cracked the barrel open.
Empty. Of course it was empty.
But the guards upstairs didn't know that.
Footsteps pounded at the top of the stairs. The guards were rushing to the landing to investigate the sound of breaking glass.
I stepped out of the study, standing in the center of the foyer, aiming the empty shotgun directly up at them.
“Drop your weapons!” I screamed, channeling every ounce of authority I had witnessed Dante use over the last two years. “Drop them now, or I blow you both in half!”
The guards froze on the landing. They looked at the massive barrels of the shotgun pointed at their chests.
“She’s bluffing,” one of them said, though he hesitated, his hand hovering over his holster. “It’s just the maid.”
“Try me,” I snarled, racking the empty action with a loud, terrifying clack.
They raised their hands, slowly drawing their pistols with two fingers and letting them drop to the carpet.
“Kick them down the stairs,” I ordered.
They kicked the guns. The heavy metal weapons tumbled down the marble steps, sliding across the foyer floor to my feet.
“Now get against the wall. Hands behind your heads.”
They turned to obey.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the top of the stairs behind them.
Ava.
She had unlocked her door. She stood in the hallway, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit, staring at the men in terror.
“Jenna?” she cried out.
The guard on the right saw his opportunity. He lunged backward, grabbing Ava by her pajama collar and hauling her in front of him like a human shield. He pulled a hidden combat knife from his boot and pressed it to her throat.
“Put the gun down, bitch!” the guard roared, hiding entirely behind Ava’s small body. “Put it down, or I cut her right now!”
My heart shattered. I lowered the empty shotgun.
Ava was crying, terrified, her tiny hands pulling at the massive arm across her chest.
“Let her go,” I begged, dropping the shotgun to the floor. “Please, just take me. Let her go.”
The guard smiled cruelly. He dragged Ava toward the stairs.
Before he could take the first step, a massive shadow loomed at the broken window at the end of the hall.
A figure stepped through the blowing rain and shattered glass.
It was Dante.
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He didn't speak. He didn't issue a warning.
He raised his handgun and fired a single, deafening shot.
