Chapter 7 - The Final Stand
Viktor staggered forward, roaring in pain as blood trickled down his neck, the silenced pistol flying from his hand and sliding across the polished floorboards.
He spun around, his face a mask of homicidal rage, and backhanded Naomi across the face with brutal force. Naomi crashed hard against the bookshelf, knocking a heavy crystal decanter to the floor where it shattered into a thousand glittering shards. Pain exploded across her cheekbone, filling her mouth with the taste of copper.
Viktor lunged for his fallen gun.
Before his fingers could touch the metal grip, the heavy oak study door burst off its hinges with a deafening crash.
Aurelio—the massive front-gate security guard—charged into the room like a freight train, tackling Viktor to the floor and driving his knee into the traitor's ribs with bone-crushing impact.
Behind Aurelio stepped Luca Moretti.
Luca’s suit jacket was torn at the shoulder, his hands stained with engine oil and gunpowder. He had just fought his way through an ambush at the southern docks, only to realize the true threat was inside his own home.
Luca took one look at Naomi’s bruised face, at the fallen pistol, and at Viktor pinned beneath Aurelio on the floor.
The air in the room became lethally cold.
Luca walked slowly across the room. He didn't look at Viktor. He looked only at Naomi, who was sliding down the bookshelf, clutching her bruised cheek.
“Did he touch you?” Luca asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the terrifying weight of a collapsing mountain.
“I’m... I’m fine,” Naomi gasped, wincing as she touched her cheek. “It was Viktor. He’s the one working with the Romanos.”
Luca stopped walking. He looked down at Viktor, who was spitting blood onto the Persian rug, glaring up with defiant hatred.
“You?” Luca murmured, a dark, dangerous shadow crossing his features. “Fifteen years, Viktor. I trusted you with my life.”
“You got soft, Luca!” Viktor spat out, laughing hysterically. “You let a street nurse and an old woman soften your grip on the city! The Romanos are at the gates right now! You’re finished!”
Luca did not blink. He pulled a heavy, silver-engraved pistol from his shoulder holster, cocked the hammer with a sharp, metallic click, and pointed it down at Viktor.
“The gates held,” Luca said softly. “And your friends at the docks are currently swimming with the fish.”
Before Viktor could scream, two more guards flooded into the room, hauling the traitor up by his arms and dragging him out into the rain-swept courtyard below.
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The sound of a single, definitive gunshot echoed through the storm outside.
Then, absolute silence returned to the study.
