Chapter 11 - THE POISONED VEINS
“LUCA!”
My voice tore through the quiet mansion, echoing off the high ceilings of the grand foyer. I didn't care who heard me. I didn't care if I scared Teresa or Margaret.
I hit the stairs running, scrambling up the marble steps so fast I scraped my knee, but I didn't stop.
Luca burst out of the study below just as I reached the landing.
“Hannah! What is it?” he yelled, drawing his weapon instinctively.
“The east wing!” I screamed, pointing down the long hallway toward the guest suites. “They’re inside, Luca! They texted me! They’re in my mother’s room!”
Luca didn't ask questions. He sprinted up the stairs, taking them three at a time, bypassing me entirely. Marco appeared from the security wing a second later, his assault rifle raised, sprinting right behind him.
I followed as fast as my legs could carry me.
We reached the heavy oak doors of the east wing guest suite. Marco didn't bother knocking. He kicked the door open with a deafening crash, sweeping the room with his rifle.
“CLEAR!” Marco shouted.
I ran into the room, my heart in my throat.
My mother, Clara, was lying in the large four-poster bed. She looked frail, pale against the white sheets, recovering from her hip surgery and the sheer exhaustion of the night’s revelations.
But she wasn't dead.
She opened her eyes in terror as we burst in. “Hannah? What’s happening? Why are there guns?”
“Mom!” I cried, rushing to her bedside and throwing my arms around her. I checked her face, her neck, her breathing. She was warm. She was alive.
Luca stood by the window, sweeping the curtains aside, checking the locks. “Marco, secure the perimeter! No one gets in or out of this wing!”
“Yes, boss.” Marco backed out of the room, closing the door heavily behind him.
I pulled away from my mother, my hands shaking as I looked at the medical equipment next to her bed. The private doctor Luca had hired had set up an IV drip to keep her hydrated and administer her pain medication.
I stared at the clear plastic bag hanging from the metal pole.
The liquid inside wasn't completely clear.
It had a faint, sickly yellow tint.
“Luca,” I choked out, pointing a trembling finger at the IV line.
Luca stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. He grabbed the plastic tubing just inches from where it entered the needle in my mother’s arm.
“Mom, how long has this new bag been running?” I asked, panic rising in my chest.
“Just… just a few minutes,” my mother stammered, looking terrified. “A nurse came in right after Marco dropped me off. She changed the bag and said it would help me sleep.”
“Our private doctor is a man,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “We don't have a female nurse on staff today.”
He didn't hesitate. Luca ripped the IV needle out of my mother’s arm.
My mother gasped in pain, clutching her wrist, but Luca was already moving. He unhooked the bag from the pole, holding it up to the morning light.
“The Alchemists,” Luca muttered. “They slipped someone in during the shift change.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I cried, checking my mother’s pulse. It was fast, fluttering like a trapped bird.
“If it was only running for a few minutes, the dose might not be lethal,” Luca said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He hit a speed dial. “Get the medic up here immediately. Bring charcoal and broad-spectrum antitoxins. Now!”
My mother gripped my hand weakly. “Hannah… my chest feels tight.”
“Stay with me, Mom. Please, you just got here. I just got you back. You can't leave me.” Tears streamed down my face.
The door burst open and the estate’s private medic rushed in, carrying a large black trauma kit. He shoved us aside, immediately checking my mother’s vitals and administering a harsh injection directly into her thigh to counteract whatever had entered her bloodstream.
Luca grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway, giving the medic space to work.
I leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, burying my face in my hands. “They’re going to kill us, Luca. Bellini was a monster, but these people… they’re ghosts.”
Luca stood over me, his face a mask of absolute, chilling resolve.
“No,” Luca said softly. “They made a mistake.”
I looked up through my tears. “What mistake?”
“They texted you,” Luca said, his eyes burning with dark intensity. “The Alchemists pride themselves on being untraceable. They don't send threats. They just execute. But the person who texted you wanted you to panic. They wanted you to run upstairs and watch her die.”
I wiped my eyes, confused. “Why?”
“Because it’s personal,” Luca said. “Vanessa is in jail. Her father is in jail. Silvio is bleeding out in a hospital under police guard. Who is left that hates you enough to want you to watch your mother suffer?”
I thought about the past eleven months. Who had I crossed? Who had Vanessa confided in?
And then, my blood ran absolutely cold.
“The security guard,” I whispered.
Luca frowned. “Which one?”
“The one who turned Margaret away at the gate last Thursday,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “He’s the one who took Vanessa’s orders to keep Teresa isolated. He’s the one who locked the front doors tonight when Vanessa tried to leave. I saw him talking to Vanessa in the kitchen yesterday. He handed her a small package.”
Luca’s eyes widened in realization. “Gregorio. He’s been on our payroll for two years. He wasn't loyal to the Bellinis… he was the inside man for The Alchemists.”
Before Luca could call Marco, the radio on Luca’s belt crackled to life.
It was Marco’s voice, tight with panic.
“Boss. We have a problem in the west wing. Teresa and the boy are gone.”
Luca ripped the radio off his belt. “What do you mean gone? I told you to keep them in the living room!”
“I stepped out to secure the perimeter,” Marco cursed. “The back garden door is wide open. And Boss… Gregorio is missing from his post.”
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“He took them,” I gasped.
Luca racked the slide of his handgun. “He didn't take them far. He wants to trade them for the deed.”
