Chapter 8 - The Traitor Within
The doorknob turned violently, but the heavy deadbolt held firm against the pressure.
"Open the door, Miss Marsh," a cold, smooth voice commanded from the hallway. It was Donovan.
Della stared at the heavy wood in absolute horror. Donovan—Antoine’s most trusted shadow, the man who had stood beside him in the diner, the man who knew every security code in the estate.
"Donovan?" Della called out, keeping her voice as steady as possible while she shielded the three toddlers behind her body. "What are you doing? Where is Antoine?"
"The boss is currently occupied cleaning up the mess in the foyer," Donovan replied, his tone chillingly casual as a heavy thud struck the door, testing the hinges. "Unfortunately for him, the Rossi family made me an offer I couldn't refuse eighteen months ago when his wife died in that delivery room. We wanted those kids neutralized before they grew up to inherit the shipping routes. But since they're alive—and since you managed to make them speak—you and the children are coming with me."
Della’s mind raced. The safehouse panic room—Antoine had said it was behind the bookshelf. She scrambled backward on her knees, dragging the triple stroller and the children toward the corner of the room where the heavy mahogany bookcase lined the wall.
"You're a traitor," Della spat out, her fingers frantically searching the carved woodwork for the hidden latch Antoine had pointed to earlier.
"I'm a survivor," Donovan corrected.
With a deafening crash, the wooden door splintered inward as Donovan kicked it off its hinges, stepping into the nursery with a pistol raised. He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto Della and the children cowering by the bookshelf.
"End of the line, Miss Marsh," Donovan said, raising his weapon toward her chest. "Tell the kids goodbye."
May you like
Before Donovan could pull the trigger, the shadows behind him shifted.
A heavy, dark figure materialized from the hallway doorway like an avenging angel. Antoine lunged forward with terrifying speed, slamming his forearm against Donovan’s throat and driving him crashing through the nursery windowpane into the courtyard below. The sound of breaking glass was instantly swallowed by the heavy silence of the storm.
