Chapter 6 - THE BLOODY COAT
The warning tore from my throat a fraction of a second too late.
Vanessa raised the guard's gun with both hands, her eyes wide with a manic, terrified desperation. She didn't aim at Adrian. She aimed squarely at Elias.
“If I can’t have the empire, neither can he!” she shrieked.
I didn't think. I just moved.
I threw myself in front of the little boy, my body acting as a human shield.
The gunshot deafened the small study.
I felt a sudden, searing impact in my left shoulder, followed by an explosive heat that knocked the breath completely from my lungs. The force threw me backward, crashing into the heavy mahogany bookshelves.
I slid to the floor, gasping for air. Blood instantly began pooling on the pristine white fabric of my uniform.
Elias screamed, a terrifying, high-pitched wail.
Time seemed to slow down.
Adrian whipped around, his eyes locking onto my bleeding body. For a single heartbeat, the calm, calculating mafia boss disappeared entirely. He let out a raw, guttural roar of absolute rage.
He didn't reach for his rifle.
He lunged across the room, moving faster than I thought humanly possible. He collided with Vanessa before she could adjust her aim for a second shot.
Adrian slammed her violently against the desk, the heavy wood groaning under the impact. He gripped her wrist and twisted sharply. The sickening sound of a bone snapping echoed through the room.
Vanessa shrieked in agony, dropping the gun.
Adrian didn't kill her. He grabbed her by her expensive, tailored hair and threw her across the room into the heavy oak door. She collapsed in a heap, sobbing and cradling her broken wrist.
“Don't move,” Adrian snarled at her, a promise of death in every syllable.
He spun around and dropped to his knees beside me.
My vision was starting to blur at the edges. Elias was crying softly, his small hands pressing frantically against my uninjured arm.
“Olivia,” Adrian said, his voice surprisingly gentle as his large, warm hands pressed firmly against the wound in my shoulder. “Stay with me. Look at me.”
“I’m looking,” I whispered, though his face was swimming in my vision.
“The bullet went clean through. You’re going to be okay,” he lied, though I could hear the desperate tremor in his voice.
He shrugged out of his expensive, tailored suit coat and pressed it hard against my bleeding shoulder, trying to staunch the blood flow.
“Take… take the boy,” I rasped, coughing slightly. “Get him out of here.”
“I’m taking both of you,” Adrian said fiercely.
He looked over his shoulder. The door to the study burst open again.
This time, it wasn't Vanessa’s men. It was Margaret Bellini—Vanessa’s mother.
She stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, completely soaked from the rain. Behind her stood two large men in cheap leather jackets—local muscle from the South Side, not part of the Moretti syndicate.
Margaret took in the scene. The dead guards. Her daughter sobbing on the floor with a broken wrist. And me, bleeding out on the rug.
“I told you she was a monster, Adrian,” Margaret said, her voice shaking with sorrow.
“You brought men?” Adrian asked, keeping his hands pressed hard against my wound.
“I brought my nephews,” Margaret replied. “When I heard gunfire at the orphanage, I knew Vanessa had made her move. I came to finish this.”
Margaret walked over to Vanessa. The elegant, high-society fiancée was now a broken, terrified mess on the floor.
“Mom, please,” Vanessa begged, crying hysterically. “He was going to kill me.”
Margaret looked down at her daughter with eyes that held no warmth, only a profound, exhausting grief.
“You died to me five years ago, Vanessa,” Margaret said coldly. “When you abandoned my grandson in a cold bed to chase a bank account.”
Margaret turned to her nephews. “Take her to the police. Tell them she tried to murder the Moretti heir and a maid. Adrian will provide the security footage.”
“No!” Vanessa screamed as the two men hauled her to her feet, dragging her out of the study. “Adrian, you can’t do this! I’m your fiancée!”
Her screams echoed down the hallway until the heavy front doors slammed shut.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Adrian didn't look at Margaret. He looked at me. His hands were covered in my blood.
“I need an ambulance,” Adrian barked into his secure radio, ignoring the fact that half his security team had betrayed him. He was calling in the loyalists.
I looked at Elias. The little boy was staring at me, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m okay, sweetie,” I tried to smile, but my lips felt numb.
I reached out with my good hand, weakly grasping Adrian’s wrist.
“The watch,” I mumbled, my mind getting fuzzy. “Get his watch.”
Adrian looked confused for a second, then realized what I meant. He reached into the desk drawer where Vanessa had dropped it, pulling out the heavy gold pocket watch. He placed it gently into Elias’s small hands.
Elias clutched it to his chest, instantly calming down slightly.
“You saved my son, Olivia,” Adrian whispered, leaning down so his forehead rested against mine. “You saved my life.”
May you like
I closed my eyes. The pain was fading, replaced by a cold, heavy sleep.
Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the wail of sirens approaching the estate, and I felt Adrian’s arms lift me off the floor, holding me tighter than anyone ever had.
