Chapter 5 - The Shadow Doctor
"Don't move, Don Alejandro," Dr. Vance said calmly, his voice chillingly polite over the gentle hum of the car engine.
Alejandro stopped dead in his tracks on the damp grass, shielding Mama and me behind his broad back. Blood was slowly seeping through his black shirt from his side wound.
"Vance..." Alejandro breathed out, his eyes darkening with absolute betrayal. "Not you."
"Why not me?" Vance chuckled, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "Did you really think a chief security officer like Dominic acted alone? Who do you think formulated the exact chemical mixture that bypasses standard toxicology screens? Who do you think calculated your exact body weight to ensure the poison worked before your security could react?"
Mama gasped, clutching me tight against her chest. "You... you're a doctor! You swore to save lives!"
"I swore to serve the highest bidder," Vance corrected smoothly. "Frank DeLuca offered me fifty million dollars and a seat at the high table. You paid me a salary to patch up your bruised thugs."
Vance stepped out of the SUV, keeping the gun trained on Alejandro’s heart. In his left hand, he held a pre-filled syringe containing a clear, amber liquid.
"Dominic failed because he didn't account for the kid," Vance said, walking slowly toward us. "But I don't make mistakes twice. This syringe contains a concentrated neurotoxin. One prick, and your nervous system shuts down in twenty seconds. No EpiPen in the world will save you this time."
"Leave the girl and the mother out of this, Vance," Alejandro growled, his hand inching toward his waistband where his empty revolver sat. "They know nothing about the syndicate."
"Oh, but they know my face," Vance smiled sadistically. "And little Emma here is far too clever for her own good. She has to die first."
Vance lunged forward, aiming the needle directly at my throat!
Mama shrieked, spinning around to take the strike herself—
CRACK!
Suddenly, the side door of the SUV flew open!
A massive, shadowy figure leaped out from the passenger seat, tackling Dr. Vance to the ground before the syringe could touch my mother.
It was Guard Marco!
Alejandro froze in shock. "Marco?!"
Marco slammed Vance’s hand against the pavement, forcing him to drop the gun and the needle. The gun discharged into the dirt—BANG!—before Marco delivered a heavy right hook that knocked Dr. Vance unconscious instantly.
Marco stood up, breathing heavily, wiping blood from a cut above his eye. He picked up Vance’s gun, checked the magazine, and looked at Alejandro.
"I thought you were working for DeLuca!" Alejandro snapped, pulling his own empty gun up. "I saw the text on your phone!"
Marco pulled out his phone and threw it to Alejandro.
"Look at the full message, Boss," Marco said hoarsely. "I wasn't texting DeLuca. I was texting your brother, Leo Moretti, in Chicago. I said 'Plan A failed. Initiate Plan B.' Plan A was keeping you safe in the mansion. Plan B was bringing Leo's reinforcements."
Alejandro looked down at the phone screen. The contact name wasn't DeLuca—it was Leo Moretti, his estranged brother who commanded the Midwest branch of the family.
"I acted like a traitor in the library so DeLuca’s moles inside the house wouldn't suspect me," Marco explained, kneeling down in respect before Alejandro. "I paved your escape route here."
Alejandro closed his eyes for a second, letting out a long, ragged breath. He walked over and clapped his hand on Marco’s shoulder. "Forgive me, my friend."
"We don't have time, Don Alejandro," Marco urged, opening the back door of the SUV. "DeLuca’s men are sweeping the forest. Leo’s private jet is waiting at the secondary airfield. We have to leave the country tonight."
We scrambled into the SUV as Marco slammed the gas, speeding away down the dark country road into the night.
I looked out the back window. In the distance, the sky above the Moretti estate was glowing deep orange as flames consumed the grand mansion.
Mama hugged me tight, shivering. "Where are we going?"
May you like
"Chicago," Alejandro said softly, wrapping his heavy coat over my shoulders. "To take back what belongs to us."
Hook: But three hours later, as our private jet soared high above the clouds toward Chicago, the plane’s cabin lights suddenly flashed red, and the pilot's panicked voice came over the intercom: "Don Alejandro! Engine two has just been remotely shut down... and we've lost cabin pressure!"
