Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Glass
Nora swallowed hard, looking away toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the storm-swept gardens.
"Because I thought you'd kill me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Genevieve told me about you, Lawson. Before she died, she sent me a letter warning me never to come near Chicago. She said your world was full of blood, monsters, and endless wars. She said if you ever found out about me, you'd view me as a threat or a leverage point for your enemies."
"Genevieve was trying to protect you," I said softly, reaching out to take her small, cold hand in mine. "She knew what Victor Blackwood was capable of."
Nora looked up, her amber eyes wide with surprise as my broad, scarred hand gently wrapped around hers.
"I tried to stay away," Nora admitted, her tears spilling over. "When Genevieve died, it broke my heart. But when I saw Yates's requisition orders last week—when I saw my sister's children being poisoned by the same man who destroyed my life—I couldn't stay in the shadows anymore. I didn't care if you shot me at the gate, Lawson. I just couldn't let Genevieve's babies die."
A deep, powerful emotion surged through my chest—something I hadn't felt in two long, dark years. Respect. Gratitude. And an undeniable, fierce desire to shield this woman from every storm in the world.
"Nobody is shooting you, Nora," I said, my voice as solid as cold iron. "You're under my roof now. You saved my family. That makes you royalty in this city."
Suddenly, the heavy glass windows of the master suite exploded inward.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
High-caliber, suppressed automatic fire tore through the room, shattering the crystal lamps, punching holes through the mahogany paneling, and splintering the frame of the sofa.
"DOWN!" I roared.
In a fraction of a second, I threw my body over Nora, pinning her beneath me on the carpet as wood, glass, and plaster rained down over us.
"Jonah! Blythe!" Nora shrieked beneath me.
"Prescott! GET THE KIDS!" I screamed into the hallway comms attached to my lapel.
Red emergency lights flashed across the ceiling as the mansion's automated steel shutters began to roll down over the windows.
Outside, heavy explosions rocked the front gates of the compound. Blackwood had realized Yates had failed, and he was launching an all-out tactical strike on my estate to finish the job himself.
The heavy double doors of the wing burst open. Prescott rushed in with four tactical enforcers, carrying heavy ballistic shields.
"They brought thirty men, Lawson!" Prescott shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire outside. "They used thermite on the south perimeter fence! They're pushing toward the main house!"
I slid out from under the sofa, reaching beneath my armpit to draw my custom black .45 pistol. I reached down, grabbed Nora by her hand, and pulled her to her feet, shoving her behind Prescott's ballistic shield.
"Take her and the twins to the panic room in the sub-basement!" I ordered Prescott.
"Lawson, no!" Nora cried out, grabbing my leather jacket. "Come with us!"
I looked at her, my eyes blazing with a dark, lethal fire. I reached up, cupping her jaw with my hand, pressing my thumb against her soft skin.
"They tried to kill my children, Nora," I whispered, racking the slide of my pistol with a metallic click that echoed through the room. "And they tried to kill you. I'm not hiding in a basement."
"Lawson—"
"Go!" I roared.
Prescott dragged Nora toward the private elevator while two guards lifted Jonah and Blythe—who were crying in confusion—into their arms.
May you like
I turned toward the shattered balcony, my dark coat billowing in the cold wind, as twelve heavily armed Blackwood mercenaries dropped onto the terrace from rooftop ropes.
"Welcome to the Mercer estate," I growled, raising my weapon.
