Chapter 4 - THE KITCHEN AMBUSHBefore Julian’s words could fully register, the air beside me shifted. A heavy iron skillet came swinging out of the dark, aimed straight for my head.
Years of instinct took over. I ducked hard, feeling the rush of displaced air graze my hair, and drove my elbow backward into a soft midsection. A sharp grunt of pain echoed in the dark, followed by the clatter of iron hitting the tile floor.
“Get him!” Julian’s voice snapped from across the room.
Heavy footsteps pounded toward me from two different directions. Security guards—men I paid, men I trusted—had been turned. Greystone Manor had been completely compromised from the inside out.
I lunged forward, grabbing a heavy plastic crate of produce and hurling it toward the sound of approaching boots. It collided with a body, sending someone crashing into the metal shelving with a loud, metallic screech of collapsing wire racks.
“Light!” I roared, sprinting toward the manual circuit breaker box on the far wall.
My fingers frantically felt along the metal panel until my hand found the heavy master lever. With a mighty heave, I threw it upward.
BZZZZT!
The fluorescent lights flickered fiercely and then blazed back to life, flooding the kitchen with blinding white illumination.
I blinked against the glare. Two of my own private security guards were sprawled on the floor, groaning. Julian was standing near the exit door, his tailored suit jacket ruined, a small, suppressed 9mm pistol drawn and pointed squarely at my chest.
And standing right behind him, holding little Rosie by the arm with a terrifying grip, was Vivienne.
Her hair was disheveled, her sapphire gown stained with mud and blood, but her eyes were wide and feral. In her free hand, she held a heavy glass bottle of industrial cleaning acid.
“Move one more inch, Damian,” Vivienne hissed, pressing the glass mouth of the bottle perilously close to Rosie’s cheek, “and the kid gets a permanent new face.”
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Rosie let out a terrified, high-pitched scream, burying her face in Vivienne’s torn sleeve.
My entire body froze. I could take Julian. I could disarm the guards. But against a hostage situation with an unhinged woman holding corrosive acid? My hands were completely tied.
