Chapter 5 - The Turncoat Within"Hide," Claire hissed, grabbing Ethan by the shoulders and shoving him quickly behind the heavy velvet drapes of the floor-to-ceiling window. "Stay quiet. Do not make a sound."
She spun around just as the door pushed open.
It wasn't Roman. It was Victor, the heavy-set guard, holding a suppressed automatic pistol in his right hand. The harsh hallway light cast a long, menacing shadow across the polished hardwood floor. He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing when he saw the empty bed.
"Ms. Bennett," Victor said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "You're awake late."
Claire forced her feet to stay planted, keeping her hands visible at her sides to hide their violent shaking. "I could say the same to you, Victor. Doesn't the boss have a strict rule about unauthorized personnel in the private wing?"
Victor took a slow step into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He raised the weapon just slightly, the dark metal glinting under the dim ambient light. "The boss is currently engaged in a very complicated phone call with our regional associates. He won't miss me for another ten minutes."
"What do you want?" Claire asked, backing up slowly toward the window without letting him see where Ethan was hiding.
"I want loose ends tied up," Victor said bluntly. "You were supposed to be a clean distraction. A convenient narrative to keep Roman distracted while the board executed the transition. But you had to go and play the hero, didn't you? You had to pull the kid out of the water."
"You pushed him," Claire said, the pieces locking together with sickening precision. "You gave the order to disable the grid, and you used the woman to push Ethan into the river."
"I have business partners who find Roman's methods... antiquated," Victor said, taking another measured step forward, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. "A grieving father hunting down a rogue nurse makes for a very clean coup. When Roman finds your body in the lake tomorrow morning, he'll tear Chicago apart looking for your supposed co-conspirators, and my backers will inherit the empire."
Victor raised the barrel of the gun, aiming directly at Claire's chest. "Nothing personal, nurse. Just corporate restructuring."
Claire braced herself, her eyes darting toward the heavy drapes where Ethan was hidden.
Bang.
The sound wasn't a gunshot. It was a deafening, splintering crash as the heavy oak door was literally kicked off its reinforced steel hinges, crashing violently onto the hardwood floor.
In the doorway stood Roman Mercer.
His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. His eyes burned with a lethal, demonic intensity that made Victor freeze mid-motion. Roman wasn't holding a pistol; he held a heavy tactical combat shotgun, barrel still smoking faintly from a door-breach charge.
"Victor," Roman said. His voice wasn't loud. It was terrifyingly quiet. "Drop the weapon."
Victor panicked. He whipped his arm around, trying to pivot the suppressed pistol toward Roman.
He didn't even get his finger to the trigger.
Roman moved with the terrifying speed of a striking cobra. A deafening roar echoed through the suite as the shotgun discharged, the heavy buckshot shattering Victor’s right shoulder and sending him crashing backward into the wall. The pistol flew from his limp hand, clattering loudly across the floorboards.
Victor screamed, collapsing into a heap against the mahogany desk, clutching his ruined arm as blood pooled rapidly across the expensive rug.
Roman stepped over the broken door, his boots crunching on splintered wood. He didn't look at Victor. His cold, dark eyes locked onto Claire, then drifted slowly toward the heavy velvet drapes.
"Ethan," Roman called out, his voice softening just a fraction. "Step out, son."
The fabric parted. Ethan crawled out from behind the drapes, running straight into his father's arms. Roman dropped the shotgun, catching his son and crushing him against his chest, burying his face in the boy's hair.
"You heard," Roman whispered, his eyes closing as he held Ethan tight.
"I heard everything, Dad," Ethan sobbed quietly. "Uncle Victor did it."
Roman slowly stood up, holding Ethan with one arm while his free hand reached down to pick up the fallen pistol. He walked over to where Victor lay groaning in agony on the floor.
"You served my father," Roman said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "You held my hand at my mother's funeral. And you tried to drown my son."
"Roman... wait... let's talk..." Victor choked out, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "The board... they'll come after you..."
"Let them come," Roman said quietly.
A single, muffled shot echoed through the suite.
Claire turned away, squeezing her eyes shut as the sickening reality of the underworld washed over her. When she turned back, Roman was standing over the body, his expression as impassive as stone. He handed Ethan gently to one of the armed guards who had just rushed into the room.
"Take him to the master suite. Lock down the perimeter," Roman commanded.
May you like
The guard nodded, scooping Ethan up and exiting the room without a word.
Only Claire and Roman remained in the blood-stained guest suite, surrounded by shattered wood and the heavy scent of cordite.
