Chapter 4 - The Serpent in the Foyer
The heavy oak doors of the master suite clicked open, and the scent of expensive cologne and cheap deceit drifted into the room.
Marcus Vance walked in with a posture of calculated grief. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his silver-streaked hair neatly combed, and an expression of profound sorrow plastered across his face. But behind his meticulously crafted mask, his eyes darted around the room like a hunting hawk assessing its prey.
"Damian..." Marcus choked out, stopping midway across the Persian rug. He looked toward the bed, expecting to find a corpse or a dying man struggling for breath.
Instead, he found Damian Volkov sitting upright in a high-backed leather chair, a glass of neat bourbon in his hand, looking as sharp and dangerous as a loaded revolver.
Marcus froze. The color instantly drained from his face, his polished facade cracking wide open.
"D-Damian?" Marcus stammered, taking an involuntary step backward. "The... the reports said you wouldn't survive the night. The toxin—"
"The toxin was exquisite, Marcus," Damian interrupted, his voice smooth and lethally calm. He took a slow sip of bourbon. "A rare compound from Eastern Europe. Slow, agonizing, designed to make my heart explode while everyone watched helpless. You spent months planning it, didn't you?"
Marcus’s eyes darted toward the doorway. He realized too late that the security guards outside hadn't saluted him on his way in; they had locked the outer deadbolts.
"You're out of your mind, Damian," Marcus snarled, his voice losing its polite veneer as he reached inside his jacket. "It’s over. If I go down, half the syndicate goes down with me. My men are already clearing out the accounts—"
He whipped a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster, aiming it straight at Damian’s chest.
"Say goodbye, boss."
My breath caught in my throat. I threw my arms around Lila, trying to shield her eyes, but before Marcus could pull the trigger, something incredible happened.
Lila had slipped off the armchair the moment she saw the shiny metal gun. Fascinated by the bright silver reflection, she trotted across the rug, completely oblivious to the danger, and stepped directly between Marcus and Damian.
"Pretty," Lila signed, looking up at Marcus with a bright, innocent smile.
Marcus blinked in sheer astonishment, his finger twitching on the trigger. "What the hell is this brat doing?" he snapped, swinging the barrel toward my daughter. "Get her out of the way, Clara, or I'll blow her head off!"
"Don't you dare touch her," Damian roared.
With blinding speed, Damian lunged forward. Despite the lingering poison in his veins, his raw adrenaline and protective fury fueled an explosive movement. Before Marcus could adjust his aim, Damian slammed his fist into Marcus’s jaw with the force of a wrecking ball.
Crack.
May you like
Marcus let out a muffled shriek as his nose shattered. The pistol slipped from his bloody fingers, clattering loudly against the marble floor.
Viktor and two armed guards burst through the side door the second the shot missed, tackling Marcus to the ground and pinning his face to the expensive rug with heavy combat boots.
