Chapter 4 - THE ARCHITECT OF TREASON
The estate went into silent lockdown. Outside, the sprawling grounds looked peaceful under the moonlight, but in the shadows, my men were armed with suppressed rifles and tactical gear, waiting for the storm.
I didn't wait in the panic room. I went to the east wing.
Silas unlocked the heavy wooden door to Evelyn’s makeshift cell. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, pale and trembling. When she saw the gun in my hand, she let out a choked sob.
"Get up," I ordered.
She scrambled to her feet, backing against the wall. "Please, Mr. Moretti. I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen. They threatened me! They said if I didn't help them, they would kill my sister in Chicago!"
"So you decided to sell my life instead," I said, closing the distance. "You compromised the staff entrance. You left a gaping hole in my perimeter."
"I had no choice!" she screamed.
"We all have choices, Evelyn. You chose to let a four-year-old girl drag her braced leg over a broken threshold to protect a breach that you created. You used a child's pain as camouflage." I grabbed her by the collar of her silk blouse, slamming her against the wall. "When are they coming?"
She sobbed, tears ruining her expensive makeup. "Midnight. They're coming at midnight. They have a tactical team. They're going to breach through the kitchen service door."
I checked my watch. It was 11:15 PM. We had forty-five minutes.
"If we survive tonight, you belong to Silas," I whispered, dropping her to the floor. "If we don't, I'll put a bullet in you myself before they breach the study."
I walked out, locking the door behind me. I keyed my radio. "Silas. The breach point is the staff entrance. Tell the men to set a kill box in the service corridor. But before you do that, get Anna and the little girl out of the staff quarters. Move them to the vault."
"On it, Boss," Silas replied.
May you like
I sprinted down the grand staircase, my mind racing. For ten years, I had ruled the underworld with cold calculation. I didn't care about collateral damage. I didn't care about the people who swept my floors. But as I ran toward the kitchen, the image of Lily clutching her stuffed rabbit, whispering an apology to a piece of marble, burned in my brain like a brand. I wasn't just fighting for my empire tonight. I was fighting to make sure that little girl never had to apologize again.
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