Chapter 7 - THE BOARDING PASS
Silvio’s gaze dropped to the porcelain vase in my trembling hands, then slowly moved back up to my face.
The grandfatherly mask he had worn earlier evaporated completely. In its place was the face of a ruthless killer.
“Lost, Emma?” Silvio asked softly.
Before I could answer, Dominic stepped out of the study, moving deliberately to position his body between his uncle and me.
“She’s just finding her way around, Silvio,” Dominic said, his voice laced with a quiet, lethal warning. “Have a safe flight to Miami.”
Silvio looked between Dominic and me. He smiled, a thin, cruel slash across his face.
“Of course, Nephew. I’ll see you soon.”
Silvio adjusted his suit jacket, tapped his cane against the floor, and walked past me down the grand hallway toward the front entrance.
As he walked away, a white rectangular piece of paper slipped from his open jacket pocket, fluttering silently to the Persian rug. Silvio didn't notice.
I waited until the heavy front doors closed behind him before I dropped the vase back onto the table and grabbed Dominic’s arm.
“It was him,” I gasped, tears of sheer panic and rage flooding my eyes. “Two days before Mark died, a man came to our house. Mark was terrified. I saw the man’s hand on the steering wheel. He was wearing that gold bracelet with the ruby clasp.”
Dominic’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter. He looked down the hallway where his uncle had just disappeared.
“I know,” Dominic whispered, the heartbreak finally bleeding through his stoic exterior. “I wanted to be wrong. I wanted the photo to be a mistake. But he just signed his own death warrant.”
Dominic stepped forward and bent down, picking up the white piece of paper Silvio had dropped.
He flipped it over.
It was a printed boarding pass.
Dominic’s brow furrowed. “Miami,” he muttered, reading the text. Then, his eyes locked onto the departure time.
His face went completely pale.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The flight isn't in two hours,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. “The flight departed three hours ago. He was never going to Miami. He was establishing an alibi.”
Suddenly, the grand chandelier above us flickered violently.
A loud, metallic clunk echoed from deep beneath the floorboards.
The entire estate plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness.
“They cut the power,” Dominic said. In the pitch black, I heard the heavy, metallic slide of a handgun being cocked.
Panic seized my chest. “Lily! Marco is at the door, but—”
“Marco is loyal to Silvio,” Dominic said, grabbing my hand in the dark. His grip was tight, desperate. “He’s the one who let them onto the grounds.”
A scream ripped from my throat. I didn't wait for Dominic. I tore my hand from his grip and sprinted blindly down the pitch-black hallway toward the east wing, my hands dragging along the wallpaper to guide me.
Behind me, the front doors exploded inward with a deafening crash. Heavy boots pounded against the marble foyer.
“Emma, down!” Dominic roared from behind me.
A barrage of suppressed gunfire ripped through the hallway. The walls around me shredded, plaster and wood raining down on my hair.
I threw myself onto the ground, crawling frantically toward the guest room. I reached the door. Marco was gone.
I pushed the door open. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
Lily was sitting up in bed, crying silently, clutching her rabbit.
I scrambled to the bed, throwing my body over hers just as Dominic burst into the room, slamming the heavy oak door shut and sliding a steel deadbolt into place.
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Dominic was breathing heavily. The moonlight caught the side of his face.
Blood was pouring down his left arm, soaking through his expensive charcoal suit.
