Chapter 9 - The Crimson Rain
The storm that hit Westchester two weeks later was the worst of the season.
The wind howled through the stone turrets of the manor, and the rain fell so hard it sounded like gravel hitting the leaded windows of Maya’s bedroom. She lay awake, watching the lightning flash across the ceiling, her heart racing as the storm brought back memories of the night Derek had entered The Obsidian.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the main hall below—the sound of shattering glass, followed immediately by the rapid, frantic pop of gunfire.
Maya scrambled out of bed, her heart in her throat. She didn't have her silver vest or her server’s apron now. She wore only a soft silk nightgown.
She ran to the door, cracking it open. The corridor was dark, but she could hear the heavy, frantic footsteps of Julian's guards running toward the west wing.
"Perimeter breach!" a voice screamed. "Gate four is down! They’re inside the courtyard!"
Maya’s blood ran cold. Derek. He had found her. He had paid someone, hired enough men, or gone mad enough to attack the fortress of Julian Sterling itself.
She ran down the dark corridor, not toward the exit, but toward the west wing—toward the only man who had ever promised to protect her.
As she reached the top of the grand staircase, the heavy oak front doors exploded inward. Three men in black tactical gear rushed into the hall, their rifles raised.
"Where is she?" a voice roared from the rain-soaked darkness of the driveway.
It was Derek. He stood on the stone steps, his face contorted with a wild, psychotic rage, a gold-plated handgun in his hand. "Maya! Come out, you little bitch! You think you can hide behind this mafia trash?"
"Derek!" Maya gasped, her voice betraying her position.
One of the armed men in the hall turned his rifle toward her, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Before he could shoot, a shadow fell from the upper landing.
Julian descended the stairs like an avenging angel. He held a heavy black shotgun in his hands. He didn't shout. He didn't warn them.
The blast of the shotgun shattered the quiet of the hall. The first gunman was thrown backward through the shattered doors, his rifle clattering against the marble.
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Julian pumped the weapon, his face completely pale and stone-cold in the muzzle flash. He fired again, sending the second man into the stone pillar.
"Marcus! Cover the stairs!" Julian roared, his voice echoing like thunder through the house. "Get her out of here!"
