Chapter 7 - THE MASTERMIND
The gunshot echoed through the nursery like a cannon blast, blowing a hole through the ceiling plaster.
Richard and Marcus crashed to the hardwood floor in a violent tangle of limbs.
Chaos erupted.
The four guards raised their weapons, but Rose was faster. Decades of brutal syndicate training took over. In a blur of motion, she spun, raised her Glock, and fired two suppressed rounds into the chests of the two closest guards. They dropped instantly.
Daniel, recovering from the blow to his stomach, swept the legs out from under the third guard, wrestling his rifle away and slamming the stock into the man’s jaw.
The fourth guard swung his weapon toward Lena.
Eleanor didn’t think. The primal instinct of a mother eclipsed every rational thought in her brain. She lunged, grabbing a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table and smashing it across the guard’s face with bone-crushing force. He collapsed in a heap.
The room fell deadly silent, save for the violent struggling on the floor.
Richard had Marcus pinned, his hands wrapped tightly around the syndicate boss’s throat. Blood poured from the gash on Richard’s forehead, blinding his left eye, but his grip was iron.
“You ruined my life!” Richard roared, his voice tearing. “You stole my daughters! You broke my wife!”
Marcus choked, his face turning purple. His hand scrambled blindly across the floor, desperately searching for his dropped pistol.
His fingers brushed the cold steel grip.
“Richard, look out!” Eleanor screamed.
Marcus swung the gun up.
A single shot rang out.
Richard froze. His entire body went rigid. Slowly, his grip on Marcus’s throat loosened. He looked down at his own chest. A dark, rapidly expanding stain of crimson bloomed across his ruined white shirt.
“No!” Eleanor shrieked, falling to her knees beside him.
Richard collapsed sideways onto the rug.
Marcus gasped for air, coughing violently as he tried to sit up and aim the gun at Eleanor.
Before he could pull the trigger, a cold metal barrel pressed against the back of his head.
“Drop it,” Rose said softly.
Marcus froze. He looked up at the daughter he had forged into a weapon. The weapon was now pointed at him.
“Rose,” Marcus wheezed, blood flecking his lips. “I gave you everything. I made you strong.”
“You made me a monster,” Rose whispered.
She pulled the hammer back.
“Rose, no!” Lena cried out, rushing forward and grabbing her sister’s arm. “Don’t do it. If you kill him, you’re exactly what he made you. Let the police have him.”
Rose’s finger hovered over the trigger. Her breathing was ragged. She looked at Lena, seeing her own face reflected in the terrified, innocent eyes of the sister who had been allowed to stay human.
Slowly, Rose lowered the gun. She struck Marcus across the temple with the heavy butt of the pistol, knocking him unconscious.
Rose stepped back, dropping the gun. Her hands were shaking violently. Lena wrapped her arms around her twin, holding her tight. For a moment, the enforcer vanished, leaving only a twenty-four-year-old girl sobbing into her sister’s shoulder.
Eleanor didn’t see them. Her entire world had shrunk to the man bleeding out on the Persian rug.
She pressed both of her hands fiercely against the gunshot wound in Richard’s chest, trying to stem the tide of blood.
“Hold on, Richard. Just hold on, Daniel is calling an ambulance,” Eleanor wept, her tears mixing with the blood on his shirt.
Richard looked up at her. His breathing was shallow, a wet, rattling sound in his chest. He reached up with a trembling, bloodstained hand and touched her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry, El.”
“Don’t speak. Save your strength,” Eleanor cried, pressing harder on the wound.
“I couldn’t protect them,” Richard gasped. “I thought if I gave them the company... if I let you hate me... you would be safe.”
“I don’t hate you,” Eleanor sobbed, realizing in that agonizing moment that she meant it. The man had made horrific choices, but he had lived in a prison of fear to keep her breathing. “I don’t hate you, Richard.”
Richard’s eyes fluttered. He turned his head slightly, looking past Eleanor.
Lena and Rose were kneeling on the floor, holding each other.
A small, genuine smile touched Richard’s lips. It was the first time Eleanor had seen him truly smile in two decades.
“They’re beautiful,” Richard whispered.
He reached into his inner jacket pocket with his last ounce of strength. He pulled out a folded, blood-soaked piece of paper and pressed it into Eleanor’s hand.
“The company,” Richard breathed. “I signed it back to you. Yesterday. It was never his.”
Eleanor gripped his hand. “Richard, stay with me.”
“Tell them,” Richard whispered, his eyes finding Eleanor’s one last time. “Tell them their father loved them.”
Richard’s chest stopped moving. His hand went limp in Eleanor’s grip. The light faded from his eyes, leaving only a peaceful stillness.
“Richard?” Eleanor whispered. She shook his shoulders. “Richard!”
A raw, agonizing scream tore from Eleanor’s throat, echoing through the empty halls of the Vance Estate.
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Behind her, Daniel lowered his phone. Sirens were wailing in the distance, growing louder.
The nightmare was over. But the cost had been everything.
