Chapter 9 - THE TRAITOR WITHIN
"Don't move an inch," a harsh whisper hissed in my ear.
I froze.
Leo gasped, reaching out his small hand toward me.
"Miss Emma!" the boy cried.
Sal spun around instantly, raising his pistol.
"Drop the knife!" Sal roared.
Standing behind me, holding a razor-sharp hunting dagger to my neck, was someone I recognized instantly.
Marcus, the head of household security.
The man who had worked in this mansion for five years.
The man who was supposed to protect us.
"Lower the gun, Sal, or the housekeeper loses her head," Marcus sneered, his eyes wild and desperate.
"Marcus," Sal growled, his grip steady on his weapon. "You've been on the payroll for half a decade. What the hell are you doing?"
"Saving my own skin," Marcus shot back. "The Syndicate owns this city, old man. Moretti's reign is over."
"You think selling out to them will save you?" I managed to choke out, keeping my chin tilted away from the blade.
"Shut up!" Marcus pressed the cold steel harder against my skin. A warm bead of blood trickled down my neck.
Leo started screaming, kicking at Marcus's shins.
"Leave her alone! Let her go, bad man!"
"Shut the brat up!" Marcus snarled, tightening his grip on me.
Sal's finger twitched on the trigger.
He didn't hesitate.
He didn't aim for Marcus's chest.
He fired low.
Bang.
A deafening shot echoed down the narrow corridor.
Marcus screamed as a bullet shattered his knee.
His grip on me instantly loosened.
He collapsed to the hardwood floor, dropping the dagger with a sharp clatter.
I stumbled forward, scooping Leo up into my arms and tumbling behind a pillar.
Sal stood over Marcus, kicking the hunting knife away down the hall.
"You're getting too old for this, Sal," Marcus groaned, clutching his bleeding leg.
"Old enough to spot a rat," Sal replied coldly, pistol still leveled at his head.
Heavy footsteps thundered up the staircase.
Luca appeared at the end of the hall, gun in hand, blood spattered on his white shirt.
He took in the scene in a single glance.
Marcus on the floor.
Me holding a crying Leo.
Sal standing guard.
Luca's face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
He walked slowly toward Marcus.
May you like
"You," Luca whispered, his voice deadly quiet.
[CLIFFHANGER: Before Luca could interrogate Marcus, the injured traitor laughed maniacally and pressed a small detonator in his palm—arming the house's self-destruct charges.]
