Chapter 6 - THE FIRE IN THE RAIN
"No!" Henry shrieked, lunging toward the window.
The gardener’s cottage—the place where he and June had built their entire lives—was engulfed in a terrifying blaze.
"June!" Henry cried, turning frantically back toward the bedroom.
But I grabbed his arm. "She's not in the cottage, Mr. Bell! She's right here in the guest room!"
Henry blinked, the panic clouding his mind for a second before realization hit him.
We had moved June to the main house. The cottage was empty.
Marcus and Evelyn didn't know that.
"They're burning an empty house," Matteo growled, his eyes locked onto Marcus. "You're pathetic."
Evelyn’s smile faltered, her eyes darting toward the guest room door behind us.
"Kill them, Marcus!" she screamed. "Get the deed!"
Gunfire erupted.
Matteo shoved me and Henry to the floor just as bullets shattered the crystal chandelier above us. Glass rained down like deadly snow.
"Dante! Get them out!" Matteo yelled, firing back at the balcony.
Dante grabbed my collar and yanked me backward into the guest room, dragging Henry with us. He slammed the heavy oak door shut and locked the deadbolt.
"Under the bed, both of you," Dante ordered, reloading his weapon.
"June is still asleep!" Henry cried, rushing to his wife. Miraculously, the heavy sedation from the doctor had kept her unconscious through the noise.
"Leave her on the bed," I said, pulling Henry down to the floor with me. "If they breach the door, they won't look at her."
Outside the room, the sounds of a warzone echoed through the mansion. Men shouting, glass breaking, the deafening cracks of gunfire.
My uncle was out there fighting for his life. For my life.
I couldn't just hide.
I scanned the room. My eyes landed on the metal lockbox still sitting on the nightstand. The deed was inside.
If Evelyn wanted the estate, she needed that piece of paper.
I crawled out from under the bed and grabbed the box.
"Abigail, get down!" Henry hissed.
Suddenly, the heavy door splintered.
A boot kicked it open.
A massive man in tactical gear stepped into the room, raising a shotgun toward Dante.
Without thinking, I threw the heavy metal box as hard as I could.
It struck the gunman squarely in the face. He stumbled backward, his gun firing wildly into the ceiling.
Dante didn't miss his opening. He tackled the man out into the hallway.
I scrambled forward to grab the metal box before it fell into the wrong hands. As I reached for it, another pair of hands snatched it off the carpet.
Marcus.
He smiled down at me, holding the box by its handle.
"Well, well. The little maid is brave," Marcus sneered.
"Give it back," I demanded, though my hands were shaking.
Marcus opened the box. He pulled out the deed and laughed.
"Fifty million dollars," Marcus whispered, staring at the paper. "My sister really thought she could marry into this. I told her taking it by force was easier."
As Marcus admired the deed, something slipped out from the folds of the paper and fluttered to the floor.
A folded, yellowed police report.
I recognized the Connecticut State Police crest immediately.
I lunged forward and snatched it.
"Hey!" Marcus barked, raising his rifle.
But I was already reading the text highlighted in yellow.
Vehicle forensics confirm brake lines severed prior to impact. Prime suspect: Marcus Cross. Motive: Elimination of Russo heir to facilitate future merger.
I looked up at Marcus, my blood running ice cold.
"You did it," I whispered. "You're the one who cut my mother’s brakes."
Marcus’s eyes darkened. "Isabella was a problem. She wouldn't play ball. I fixed the problem."
"She was twenty years old!" I screamed.
Marcus raised the barrel of the rifle, aiming it directly at my chest.
"And now, you're a problem," he said coldly.
Before he could pull the trigger, a dark blur slammed into him from the side.
Matteo.
My uncle drove Marcus through the hallway banister. The wood shattered, and both men plummeted to the marble floor of the foyer below.
"Matteo!" I screamed, running to the broken railing.
Matteo was already on his feet, his fist connecting violently with Marcus’s jaw. The gun went skittering across the floor.
Dante and the remaining security guards flooded the foyer, pinning Marcus and his men to the ground.
It was over. We had won.
Matteo looked up at me, wiping blood from his lip, breathing heavily.
"Are you okay, Abigail?" he called out.
I nodded, gripping the police report tightly. "He killed her, Matteo! He caused the crash!"
Matteo’s eyes filled with a terrifying rage. He looked down at Marcus.
"You're going to spend the rest of your life in a hole," Matteo promised.
Marcus spat blood onto the marble floor and began to laugh. A deep, sick, hollow laugh.
"You think this is over?" Marcus wheezed, grinning up at Matteo.
"Evelyn isn't down here."
Matteo froze.
We both looked around. Marcus was right. Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" Matteo demanded, grabbing Marcus by the throat.
Marcus just smiled, his teeth stained red.
"She realized the cottage was empty, Matteo. So she went to find the old lady. And she took a syringe from my medical kit."
I spun around and sprinted back into the guest room.
The bed was empty.
May you like
Henry was lying unconscious on the floor.
And trailing out the open window toward the fire escape was a string of broken white pearls.
