Chapter 5 - The Glass House
The gunfire erupted like thunder.
Roman dropped instantly, firing three swift, calculated shots into the darkness. Two men fell with heavy splashes into the mud. Ava squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Lily under the shelter of the overturned SUV's undercarriage, holding her breath as lead ripped through the metal above their heads.
“Ava! Run toward the river bed!” Roman shouted, throwing himself into the dirt as a hail of bullets tore up the dirt around him.
Ava didn't hesitate. She grabbed Lily, hoisted her against her chest, and bolted into the thick Texas brush. Thorns tore at her server apron, slashing her arms and legs, but she didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline surged through her veins like fire. Behind her, the sounds of gunshots and heavy physical combat echoed through the night, followed by a wet, sickening thud and a scream of pain.
She kept running until her lungs burned, her shoes stuck in the heavy mud, and her knees gave out. She collapsed near the bank of a swollen creek, gasping for air, clutching the crying toddler tightly against her chest.
“Mommy...” Lily whimpered, reaching up to wipe a mixture of mud and rain from Ava’s face. “Daddy... where is Daddy?”
“He’s coming, baby... he’s coming,” Ava whispered, her voice breaking. She looked at the small Derringer in her right hand. Her fingers were shaking uncontrollably.
A heavy footstep crunched in the mud behind her.
Ava spun around, raising the tiny pistol with both hands, her heart in her throat.
Standing five feet away, drenched in rain and covered in mud and dark blood, was Roman. He was leaning heavily against a oak tree, holding a deep wound on his side. But he was still standing.
“You... you survived,” Ava breathed, dropping her hands in relief.
“I told you,” Roman grunted, taking a painful step forward. “I don't die easily.”
Two hours later, a non-descript farm truck picked them up from a rural gas station. By sunrise, they arrived at a secluded estate deep in the Hill Country—a fortress of glass, steel, and concrete perched high on a cliff overlooking the river valley.
The estate was crawling with armed security guards in tactical gear. As the truck pulled into the underground garage, a team of private medical personnel rushed forward with stretchers and equipment.
“Mr. Garza! You’re bleeding heavily—” a doctor began.
“Fix my side,” Roman ordered, pushing the stretcher away and walking under his own power. “And get a rapid DNA testing unit in the study. We have six hours before the board meeting.”
Ava was led to a luxurious master suite overlooking the misty valley. Servants brought fresh clothing, warm food, and medical supplies to tend to her cuts. Lily refused to leave her side, curling up on the massive velvet sofa with her head resting on Ava’s lap, fast asleep.
As Ava sat in the silent room, looking out over the grand estate, she caught her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
She was no longer Ava Reyes, the poor girl from the South Side working eighty hours a week just to keep her family afloat. She was wrapped in cashmere, surrounded by millions of dollars of security, holding the heir to an empire in her lap.
The door to the study opened, and Roman walked in. His torso was heavily bandaged beneath a fresh white shirt, his face pale, but his stance was as imposing as ever.
Behind him walked a tall, sharp-looking woman in a lab coat, holding a silver briefcase.
“The rapid sequencer is ready,” Roman said, his Slate eyes locking onto Ava. “One drop of your blood, Ava. If it matches, we go to the board meeting at nine o'clock and destroy Julian forever.”
Ava looked at the needle in the doctor’s hand, then up at Roman.
“And if I refuse?” Ava asked quietly. “What if I don't want your money? What if I just want my life back?”
Roman walked over, leaning down until his dark eyes were level with hers.
“You can’t go back, Ava,” he whispered. “Because thirty minutes ago, my team checked on your abuela’s house on the South Side.”
May you like
Ava’s blood ran cold. “What happened to her?”
“She’s gone,” Roman said softly. “Julian’s men got there first.”
