Chapter 5 - BLOOD ON THE MARBLE
The victory was short-lived.
At 2:00 AM, the mansion’s security alarms screamed into the night. Red emergency lights flashed along the hallways, casting long, bloody shadows across the walls.
I scrambled out of the bed in the guest wing where I had been staying, pulling a robe over my clothes. As I opened my door, the sound of heavy gunfire echoed from the lower courtyard.
Lorenzo Moretti hadn't come alone. His men had launched a full-scale raid on the estate to rescue their boss and eliminate Desmond once and for all.
I ran through the smoky corridors toward Desmond's master suite. Guards were exchanging fire near the main staircase, the air thick with plaster dust and the deafening roar of automatic weapons.
I burst into Desmond's study. He was sitting near his heavy mahogany desk, calmly loading magazines into a high-powered rifle.
"Clara!" he yelled over the sound of an explosion outside the window. "What are you doing here?! I told Sam to get you to the panic room!"
"I'm not leaving you!" I shouted back, running to his side. "The main hall is compromised! They have heavy firepower!"
"Then we hold the line here," Desmond said, his jaw set in stone. He handed me a small revolver from his drawer. "Do you know how to use this?"
"I... I took a safety course once," I stammered, my hands shaking as I held the cold steel.
"Point and pull," he said simply. "Don't hesitate."
Suddenly, the reinforced double doors of the study blew inward with a deafening crack. Two masked hitmen charged into the room, their rifles raised.
Desmond fired twice with terrifying precision. Both men dropped instantly. But a third hitman slid behind the leather couch, firing a burst toward Desmond's chair.
A bullet clipped Desmond's shoulder. He winced, dropping his rifle as blood seeped through his white shirt.
The hitman stepped out from behind the couch, aiming straight at Desmond's chest. "End of the line, Gallagher."
My brain went blank. Instinct took over.
I raised the small revolver with both hands and pulled the trigger.
The gun kicked hard against my wrists. The bullet caught the hitman in the chest. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing onto the Persian rug.
Silence descended on the room, broken only by the sound of my heavy breathing and the crackle of distant flames downstairs.
I dropped the gun, my body trembling so violently I could barely stand. I looked down at my hands, then at the blood pooling on the floor.
"Clara..."
Desmond's voice pulled me back. I rushed to his side, tearing his shirt open to inspect the wound on his shoulder.
"It's a clean graze," I gasped, my professional instincts kicking in over the shock. "The bullet didn't hit the artery. You're going to be okay."
Desmond reached up with his uninjured arm, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. He pulled my forehead down against his, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.
"You saved my life," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
"I told you," I choked out, a single tear escaping my eye. "I'm not letting you die."
May you like
He pulled me closer and kissed me.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hot, desperate, and filled with all the unspoken passion that had been building between us for weeks. I melted into his touch, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as the world burned outside the door.
