Chapter 4 - THE SHADOW IN THE NURSERY
Midnight brought a torrential downpour that lashed the tall leaded-glass windows of the estate. Thunder rolled across the coastal cliffs, shaking the ancient timbers of the house.
On the third floor, inside the master guest suite, the lights were dimmed to a soft amber glow. Sophia was asleep in the center of a king-sized canopy bed, buried under goose-down blankets, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit.
Alina sat in an armchair beside the bed, unable to close her eyes. She wore a pair of clean sweatpants and a sweater Damian had sent up from the guest wardrobe. Every crack of thunder made her jump.
The door handle clicked.
Alina bolted upright, her heart slamming against her throat.
The heavy oak door swung open soundlessly. Damian stepped into the room, dressed in black slacks and a charcoal cashmere sweater. He carried a tablet in one hand and held a finger to his lips, signaling silence.
Alina exhaled a trembling breath and leaned back. "Mr. Cross... you scared me."
"How is she?" Damian whispered, glancing toward the bed.
"Sleeping. She doesn't understand what's happening. She thinks this is a game—that we are staying in a castle." Alina wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Mr. Cross, whoever did this... they know who we are. They left a note in my locker. We aren't safe here. Please, let me take her back to Chicago. We will disappear. I swear she won't say a word."
Damian pulled a chair opposite her and sat down. His face, usually carved of stone, softened under the dim lamp.
"If you run, Alina, you die on the highway before sunrise," Damian said honestly. "Whoever organized this has access to highway surveillance, vehicle trackers, and professional contractors. The only reason you and Sophia are alive right now is because you are behind my walls."
"Why would anyone do this to you?" she whispered. "You gave me a job when no one else would look at a single mother with an infant. You paid for her asthma medicine. You let her stay in the staff quarters."
"Because power attracts wolves," Damian said. "And when the head wolf looks sick, the pack decides it’s time to eat."
Suddenly, the bedside lamp flickered.
Then it died.
The room plunged into pitch-black darkness. Down the hall, the faint hum of the estate’s backup generator sputtered and cut out entirely—a tactical power kill.
Damian was on his feet in less than half a second. His hand found the concealed Glock 19 tucked behind his waistband.
"Get on the floor behind the bed," he whispered, pushing Alina down. "Cover Sophia. Do not make a sound."
Through the darkness, Damian moved like a ghost toward the suite's private balcony doors. The storm was howling outside, rain beating against the glass. Through the curtain, he saw a dark silhouette slicing through the glass pane with a diamond cutter.
The intruder had bypassed the outer stairs, scaling the third-floor masonry in the middle of a storm with climbing gear. Professional. Targeted. Sent to silence the loose thread.
The glass gave way with a muffled pop. A gloved hand reached inside, unlocking the balcony latch.
A man dressed in wet-weather tactical gear slipped into the room, a suppressed pistol raised in his right hand. He took two steps toward the bed, aiming directly through the canopy curtains.
He never pulled the trigger.
Damian stepped out from the shadows beside the armoire, seized the intruder’s wrist, and twisted it downward with brutal efficiency. Bone snapped with the wet crunch of celery. The suppressed gun dropped into Damian’s waiting left hand.
The intruder gasped, reaching for a combat knife with his off-hand, but Damian drove his elbow into the man’s throat, slamming him against the heavy mahogany dresser. The intruder dropped to his knees, gasping for air, blood pooling in his mouth.
Damian pressed the warm barrel of the Glock against the man's forehead.
"Who paid you?" Damian whispered.
The man wheezed, his eyes wide with shock. He hadn't expected the dying billionaire with a ruined heart to move like a panther.
"Speak," Damian whispered, "or I will drop you off that balcony into the surf."
The intruder swallowed blood. "The... the doctor. Vance. Vance gave the green light. He said... clean the maid and the kid before morning."
Behind Damian, Sophia stirred under the covers, letting out a small, terrified whimper.
Damian did not pull the trigger. Instead, he struck the man across the temple with the butt of the pistol, knocking him unconscious, then stepped on the man’s broken wrist to pin him.
May you like
He keyed his radio. "Marcus. Balcony, master suite. Clean this garbage up and bring Dr. Vance to my private office."
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