Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps
Sophie didn't scream.
In the NICU, screaming wasted precious seconds. When an infant stopped breathing, you didn't panic; you acted.
As the shadowed figure leaned over the crib, raising the syringe toward Leo’s IV monitor line, Sophie launched herself from the armchair.
She grabbed the heavy, solid-brass table lamp from the nightstand and swung it with all her strength.
*CRACK!*
The heavy brass base struck the intruder across the shoulder and side of the head. The figure grunted in shock and pain, stumbling sideways, the glass syringe flying from their fingers and shattering against the marble base of the fireplace.
“What the—” the intruder hissed, a muffled, male voice.
Sophie didn't give him time to recover. She threw herself between the intruder and the crib, her arms spread wide. “Angelo! Dominic! Security!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
The intruder lunged at her, a gloved hand grabbing her throat, slamming her against the wall. Stars exploded in Sophie’s vision as her breath was cut off. Through the dark cloth covering the man’s face, she could see cold, panicked eyes.
“Stupid bitch,” the man snarled, his other hand reaching into his coat for a blade. “You should have stayed a waitress!”
Before the blade could clear leather, the heavy nursery doors were blown off their hinges.
The sound was like an artillery strike.
Dominic Russo burst into the room. He wasn't wearing a suit. He wore black tactical trousers and a dark t-shirt, a custom Kimber .45 pistol raised in a two-handed grip.
He took in the scene in a millisecond: Sophie pinned against the wall, the shattered syringe, the baby crying in terror.
Dominic didn't fire—the risk of a ricochet hitting Leo or Sophie was too great.
Instead, Dominic closed the distance like a panther. He seized the intruder’s arm, twisting it with a sickening *SNAP* of splintering bone.
The attacker shrieked in agony as Dominic slammed him face-first into the hardwood floor, driving his knee into the man’s spine. Dominic shoved the barrel of his .45 directly into the back of the man’s neck.
“Move,” Dominic growled, his voice a guttural roar, “and I paint this ceiling with your brains.”
Angelo and three other guards rushed into the room, assault rifles raised, sweeping the corners.
“Clear!” Angelo called out, breathing hard.
Dominic ripped the ski mask off the intruder’s face.
Sophie slid down the wall, clutching her bruised throat, coughing as air rushed back into her lungs. She looked down at the bleeding man on the floor.
It wasn't Vincent.
It was Dr. Evans’s private physician’s assistant, a man named Marcus whom Sophie recognized from the hospital.
“Marcus...” Sophie choked out.
Dominic grabbed Marcus by his hair, hauling his head back until his spine bowed agonizingly. “Who sent you?”
Marcus spat blood onto the floor, trembling violently. “Go to hell, Russo! You’re finished! Both of you are finished!”
“Angelo,” Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Take Miss Miller and Leo to my private master suite. Lock the vault doors.”
“No,” Sophie croaked, pushing herself up from the floor, her legs shaking. “Dominic... the syringe.”
Dominic glanced at the shattered glass by the fireplace.
“It’s potassium chloride,” Sophie whispered, her medical knowledge cutting through the chaos. “Pure, undiluted potassium. If that had entered his line, his heart would have stopped instantly. No traces in a standard autopsy. They knew the digitalis was discovered... so they came to finish it tonight.”
Dominic looked from the shattered glass back to Marcus. A darkness descended over his face—a cold, absolute fury that belonged to the apex predator of the underworld.
“Angelo,” Dominic commanded. “Call Vincent. Call Elena. Tell them we are having a family meeting in the wine cellar. Right now.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Dominic stood up, walking over to Sophie. His hands, which had just shattered a man’s arm without blinking, reached out and gently lifted her chin. His eyes searched her bruised neck, his thumb brushing against the red marks left by Marcus’s fingers.
“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” Dominic asked, his voice thick with an intensity that made her pulse race.
“I’m fine,” Sophie said, though her breath was still ragged. “Leo... is he okay?”
Dominic looked toward the crib. Leo was crying, startled by the noise, but unharmed.
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“Because of you, he’s alive,” Dominic whispered, his fingers lingering on her jawline. “I swear to you, Sophie, before this night is over, the people who touched my son and laid hands on you will pay every cent of their debt in blood.”
***
