Chapter 4 - The Traitor Within
Headline: She Heard Her Speak For The First Time—But The Words Broke Her Heart Into Pieces!Weston and Holly took the stairs three at a time, their hearts pounding in a synchronized panic. The mansion’s alarms hadn't gone off this time, which meant only one thing: the threat was already inside the inner circle.
They burst into the grand living room. Tristan stood near the shattered glass of the French doors, holding Mary tightly by the arm. The little girl was crying hysterically, her tiny face red, her small body shaking violently.
But what stopped Weston in his tracks was the sight of three of his most trusted personal bodyguards lying dead on the Persian rug, their throats cleanly slit from behind.
"Tristan?" Weston asked, his gun lowering slightly in sheer disbelief. "What happened?"
"He did it," Mary sobbed, her voice cracking, raw and trembling as she spoke her very first words in eight months. She pointed a small, shaking finger directly at her uncle. "Daddy... Uncle Tristan killed them! He tried to take me!"
The revelation hit the room like a devastating tidal wave.
Tristan didn't look guilty. Instead, a cold, mocking smile spread across his handsome face. He pulled a compact, high-caliber pistol from his jacket and pressed the cold barrel directly against his young niece’s temple.
"Don't move, big brother," Tristan warned, his eyes gleaming with a manic, desperate greed. "One step and Mary joins her mother."
"Tristan..." Weston’s voice was dangerously low, a primal growl vibrating from his chest. "You sold out your own blood?"
"You got soft, Weston!" Tristan shouted, his grip tightening on Mary, making the little girl wail in pain. "Ever since Sarah died, you’ve been running this family like a charity! Then this broke nanny shows up with a three-billion-dollar Russian bounty on her head? Nikolai offered me half of the Volkov empire plus control of New York if I delivered the girl and the horse. It’s business."
Holly stepped forward, her hands raised slightly, her face an unreadable mask of absolute calm. "You want me, Tristan. Take me. Leave the little girl out of this. She doesn't know anything."
"Oh, I’m taking both of you," Tristan sneered. "Nikolai is waiting at the private hangar at JFK. We’re loading the horse onto the cargo plane in an hour. Move toward the door, both of you. Slow."
Weston looked at his brother—the boy he had raised, the man he had protected. The betrayal cut deeper than any blade, but the mafia boss couldn't risk his daughter's life. He slowly dropped his weapon to the floor, his eyes locking onto Holly’s.
In that split second, a silent, unspoken understanding passed between them. They didn't need words. They were both predators, and they knew exactly how to hunt in tandem.
Holly deliberately stumbled, fake-tripping over her own feet, letting out a sharp cry as she fell toward the floor.
The brief distraction worked. Tristan’s eyes instinctively flickered down to her for a fraction of a second.
That was all the time Weston needed.
With superhuman speed, Weston lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of Tristan’s gun and forcing it upward just as a shot fired off, shattering the crystal chandelier above them. At the same time, Holly swept her leg across the floor, kicking Tristan’s ankles out from under him.
Mary fell free, scrambling instantly toward the corner of the room.
Weston and Tristan crashed into the glass coffee table, a brutal, no-holds-barred brawl between brothers exploding in the middle of the room. Tristan threw a heavy punch that cut Weston’s cheek, but Weston didn't even feel the pain. Fueled by pure, unadulterated paternal rage, Weston pinned Tristan to the floor, his massive hands wrapping around his brother’s throat, squeezing the life out of him.
"You touched my daughter," Weston roared, his face contorted in fury. "You betrayed our family!"
"Weston, stop!" Holly called out, grabbing his shoulder. "If you kill him now, we don't know where Nikolai’s main force is. We need him alive to get to the hangar!"
Weston looked up, his eyes bloodshot and wild, breathing heavily. Slowly, painfully, he released his grip, leaving Tristan coughing and gasping for air on the bloody floor.
Weston stood up, wiping the blood from his face. He walked over to Mary, picking her up and crushing her against his chest. "I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you."
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Mary buried her face in his neck, whispering softly, "Save Holly’s horse, Daddy. Don't let them hurt Midnight."
Weston looked at Holly, a dark, unbreakable resolve settling over his features. "Get the trucks ready. We’re going to JFK. It’s time to end this war."
