Chapter 3 - The Traitor’s Fall
The metal click of Marcus’s pistol clearing leather was deafening. Half a dozen other guards drew their weapons instantly, but Marcus was faster, his arm outstretched, the black barrel trembling slightly as he aimed directly at Alejandro’s heart.
“Back off! All of you!” Marcus screamed, spittle flying from his lips. His eyes were wild, darting between Alejandro and the blinking red light on the bookshelf. “Put your guns down or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through his skull right now! The old man should have died five minutes ago!”
Mama gasped, burying my face into her shoulder so I couldn't see, but I peeked out anyway, my fingers gripping my rabbit backpack.
Alejandro Moretti didn't flinch. He didn't raise his hands, nor did he look at the gun pointed at his chest. He merely crossed his arms over his broad chest, a cold, dangerous smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“You’re shaking, Marcus,” Alejandro observed smoothly, taking a slow step forward. “The poison was supposed to look like a sudden heart attack or a massive stroke. Clean. Untraceable. Except for the bitter almond aftertaste that only an experienced palate—or someone who deals with severe allergies—would recognize.”
“Shut up!” Marcus yelled, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Move another inch and you’re dead!”
“Am I?” Alejandro chuckled, a dark, chilling sound. “Look around you, boy. Every guard in this room has served under me for a decade. They know my face, they know my enemies, and above all, they know loyalty. You think you’re holding a hostage? You’re holding a death warrant.”
Before Marcus could pull the trigger, the guard standing directly to his left moved with blinding speed. The butt of a heavy tactical shotgun slammed into Marcus’s wrist with a sickening crunch. The pistol flew from his hand, clattering loudly against the marble floor.
With a roar of agony, Marcus dropped to his knees, clutching his broken wrist. Within a fraction of a second, three other guards piled on top of him, pinning him face-down to the floor, twisting his arms behind his back in a brutal, efficient hold.
“Get him out of my sight,” Alejandro commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Take him to the basement vault. We’ll have a long talk about who hired him after I deal with the rest of the rats.”
As Marcus was dragged away, kicking and screaming obscenities, the study grew quiet once more. The lingering smell of bitter almonds seemed to fade, replaced by the sharp scent of ozone and tension.
Alejandro turned his attention back to my mother and me. He walked over, kneeling down until he was at eye level with me. His dark eyes, which had looked so terrifying moments ago, were now remarkably gentle.
“What is your name, little one?” he asked softly.
“Emma,” I whispered, clutching my stuffed rabbit.
“Emma,” Alejandro repeated, tasting the name as if it were something precious. He reached out, gently touching the strap of my pink backpack. “You used your last medicine to save a stranger. A monster, as many people call me.”
“You couldn't breathe,” I repeated stubbornly. “Monsters need to breathe too, don't they?”
A deep, genuine laugh rumbled from Alejandro’s chest. He stood up, looking at my mother, who was still trembling with fear and exhaustion.
“Elena,” Alejandro said, his voice firm and authoritative. “Pack your things. You and Emma are no longer living in the basement staff quarters.”
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Mama’s eyes widened in sheer terror. “Mr. Moretti, please! Don't fire us! I swear Emma didn't mean to break the rules, she only wanted—”
“Fire you?” Alejandro interrupted, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Elena, starting tonight, you are the head of household operations for this entire estate. And as for Emma...” He looked down at me, his expression softening completely. “From this moment on, she is under my personal protection. No one in this city will ever lay a finger on her.”
