Chapter 5 - Poisoned Roots
At six o'clock that evening, while the mansion was preparing for the syndicate board meeting, Mara walked down to the estate’s private secondary kitchen—a quiet service room used for storing fresh produce and imported wines.
She needed to inspect the fresh herbal teas Adrian drank every evening before bed.
The room was dimly lit, smelling of dry rosemary and oak barrels.
As Mara reached for a tin of Chamomile on the high shelf, she heard a soft, mechanical click behind her.
She spun around instantly.
A man in a dark maintenance jumpsuit stood in the doorway, holding a silenced 9mm pistol pointed directly at her forehead.
“Nurse Ellison,” the man said, his voice flat and emotionless. “Victor sends his regards. He said you know too much for a girl who cleans toilets.”
Mara’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, but twelve years of emergency room trauma training kicked in before panic could freeze her brain.
“If you shoot me here,” Mara said, her voice eerily calm, “the security cameras in this hallway will flag your position before you reach the service exit.”
“The cameras on this wing were looped two minutes ago,” the killer replied, taking a step forward, raising the gun. “Goodbye, Nurse.”
Mara didn't scream. She grabbed the heavy copper teapot sitting on the counter beside her and hurled it with all her strength at his face.
CLANG!
The teapot struck the gunman square in the nose, shattering his cartilage and knocking him off balance. The silenced gun discharged into the floor with a soft pfft.
Mara lunged forward, using her lower body weight—honed from years of lifting heavy trauma patients—to tackle the man into a rack of glass wine bottles.
CRASH!
Dark red wine and shattered glass spilled across the concrete floor like blood. The gunman roared in pain, grabbing Mara by her throat, pinning her against the floor, his fingers choking the air from her windpipe.
“You... stupid... bitch!” he growled, raising his gun hand to press the barrel against her temple.
Mara reached out blindly into the mess of shattered glass beside her, her fingers wrapping around a heavy, broken bottle neck.
She drove it upward with everything she had into the gunman’s shoulder muscle.
The man screamed, dropping the weapon.
Before he could recover, the heavy wooden door of the service kitchen was smashed off its hinges.
Caleb Dorsey stormed into the room like an enraged bull. He grabbed the assassin by his collar, yanked him off Mara, and drove his knee violently into the man’s stomach, dropping him senseless onto the glass-strewn floor.
Caleb instantly dropped beside Mara, helping her up into a sitting position. “Mara! Are you hit? Speak to me!”
Mara choked, coughing violently as air rushed back into her lungs. She held her neck, her hands covered in dark red wine and minor cuts from the broken glass.
“I’m... I’m okay,” Mara gasped, her voice raw. “The tea... check the tea...”
Caleb picked up the tin of Chamomile tea from the counter and opened it. Inside, mixed among the dried flowers, was a fine, white crystalline powder.
“Aconite,” Mara rasped, leaning against Caleb’s shoulder. “Monkshood poison. It causes immediate cardiac arrhythmia. He was going to spike his night tea.”
Caleb’s face turned terrifyingly dark. He pulled his radio from his belt.
“All units, lockdown the main hall,” Caleb barked into the radio. “Victor Carrow is not to leave the estate. I repeat, do NOT let Victor Carrow reach his vehicle.”
Two minutes later, Adrian arrived in the service kitchen, flanked by three armed guards.
When he saw Mara sitting on the floor, her clothes soaked in wine and blood, her throat bruised purple, his dark eyes flashed with an apocalyptic rage that made even Caleb take a step back.
Adrian dropped to his knees in front of her, ignoring the broken glass cutting into his expensive trousers. He reached out, his massive, trembling hands cupping her face with breathtaking tenderness.
“Mara,” Adrian whispered, his voice shaking with a terrifying mix of horror and love. “My God... Mara...”
“I’m fine, Adrian,” Mara murmured, reaching up to touch his hand. “He didn't get me.”
Adrian pulled her gently against his chest, wrapping his arms around her broad frame, burying his face in her hair.
For the first time in front of his men, the feared Mafia Don of Boston showed absolute vulnerability. He held her as if she were the most precious, irreplaceable thing in his entire world.
“He tried to kill you,” Adrian growled against her neck, his voice turning into pure iron. “He tried to take the woman who saved my life.”
Adrian stood up slowly, pulling Mara up with him, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around her waist to support her weight.
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He looked at Caleb, his dark eyes burning with absolute death.
“Bring Victor to the boardroom,” Adrian ordered softly. “It’s time to end this family drama once and for all.”
