Chapter 3 - The Wolf Inside the Gates“Well, well, well,” Marco Moretti’s voice cut through the grand foyer like a razor blade. He stepped over the shattered remains of the mahogany doors, his Italian leather shoes crunching on the glass. He wore a crisp, tailored charcoal suit, but his eyes were dead, predatory, and fixed entirely on me.
“I always wondered where that brat got her stubborn streak,” Marco sneered, gesturing lazily with his silenced pistol. “Turns out, low-class genes never really wash out, do they, Damian?”
Damian didn’t flinch. In a fraction of a second, his body shifted from a grieving father to a lethal apex predator. Without a single word, he moved with terrifying speed, shoving me and Leah behind a massive marble pillar while drawing a heavy-caliber firearm from his shoulder holster.
“You stepped onto the wrong property, Marco,” Damian’s voice dropped an octave, dripping with a cold, murderous intent that made my blood freeze.
“Did I?” Marco laughed, raising his weapon slightly. The dozen tactical mercenaries fanned out, their laser sights painting a web of red death across the room. “I’m just picking up my property. That child belongs to the Caruso-Moretti blood feud. She was supposed to be a pawn to destroy you from the inside out, Damian. But it looks like nature played a cruel joke on us all.”
Marco’s eyes shifted past the marble pillar, locking directly onto me. A cruel, knowing smirk spread across his face.
“Ah, Clara Vance. Or should I call you by your real name? Clara Moretti? No, that doesn’t sound right. Let’s stick to ‘the gullible waitress who thought her baby died in a trash heap in Zurich.’”
My breath caught in my throat. The room spun wildly.
“You…” I choked out, clutching Leah tighter against my chest. “You were the one… You ordered it?”
“Of course I did, sweetheart,” Marco mocked, taking a slow step forward. “My men needed a fresh, untraceable infant to swap into the wreckage of Damian’s car so his grief would blind him. Your little girl was just conveniently born at the right time in the right isolated clinic. We paid off the staff, handed you a check and a fake urn of ashes, and walked away clean. Brilliant, right?”
Fury—hot, blinding, and absolute—erupted inside me, burning away every ounce of fear. The broken, grieving mother was gone. In her place stood a woman who had nothing left to lose.
“You stole my baby,” I hissed, my voice trembling not with fear, but with pure rage.
May you like
Before Marco could reply, Damian moved.
With a deafening roar, Damian fired twice through the gap in the pillar. The glass chandelier above the mercenaries shattered into a million pieces, plunging the foyer into sudden, chaotic darkness as the backup emergency lights flickered on, casting long, bloody shadows across the marble floor.
