Chapter 2 - The Traitor Within
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened until the bone carved a sharp line against his skin. His knuckles turned white around the grip of his pistol.
"You brought a war to my doorstep," Lorenzo hissed, stepping closer to me, his gaze blazing with fury. Yet, to my utter shock, he didn't aim the weapon at me. Instead, he positioned his broad frame directly in front of the armchair where I cowered with Leo, putting himself between us and the door.
"I didn't!" I protested, my voice cracking under the weight of exhaustion, trauma, and terror. "I hid! I changed my name, I took a job where I thought nobody would ever look for me! But look at the sleeping nurse, Mr. Rossi! Look at her!"
Lorenzo cast a sharp, calculating glance across the room toward the armchair where the night nurse, Brenda, still slumped awkwardly. A half-empty crystal wineglass sat on the side table, dark red fluid sloshed against the rim.
Brenda hadn't moved an inch since we entered the room—not even when the deadbolt clicked, not even when the door rattled under Viktor's weight.
"She isn't just asleep," Lorenzo murmured, realization dawning with terrifying clarity in his dark eyes. "She’s heavily sedated."
"Or paid off," I added bitterly. "Someone wanted access to this nursery. Someone wanted your son to starve slowly so everyone would think he was dying of a natural illness. The sleeping nurse, the locked door... it was an inside job, Mr. Rossi. Your own security has been compromised."
Bang. Bang.
More heavy blows slammed against the mahogany door, splintering the frame around the lock. The wood groaned under the assault.
"They're using a hydraulic ram or a heavy charge," Lorenzo muttered, calculating the structural integrity of the room in seconds. He reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out a heavily modified encrypted satellite phone, and punched in a rapid code with his thumb.
"Kaelen. Code Black on the third floor east wing," Lorenzo spoke into the device, his tone chillingly calm. "Traitor in the detail. Clean house, take no prisoners, and secure the perimeter. If anyone touches the nursery stairs, feed them to the harbor."
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A crackle of static confirmed the order on the other end.
But before reinforcement could arrive, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from the doorframe. The lock mechanism gave way with a violent pop. The door swung inward, revealing the grinning, bloodshot face of Viktor framed in the dim hallway light, holding a heavy tactical crowbar in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.
