Chapter 6 - The Standing Man
Maeve felt the air pressure in the room change instantly.
The broad chest pressed against her back suddenly rose higher. And higher. And higher.
Until the man who was supposed to be permanently paralyzed was looming six-foot-two above her, his shadow completely swallowing her slender frame, his immense shoulders blocking out the light of the fireplace.
Maeve’s brain completely stalled. She slowly turned her head upward, her jaw dropping in sheer, unadulterated shock.
Elias was standing on his own two feet.
Firmly. Perfectly. Balanced like a panther preparing to kill.
There was no limp. No hesitation. No brace locking his knee. His left leg, which doctors had claimed was useless, held his massive weight without a single tremble.
Tony Moretti and his two armed mercenaries froze, their eyes widening in pure horror as if they were looking at a ghost resurrected from the grave.
"What the...?" Tony stammered, his pistol shaking in his hand. "You... you can walk?!"
Elias didn't answer.
With blinding, lethal speed that defied human belief, Elias reached down, wrapped his heavy left arm around Maeve’s waist, and tossed her gently behind him onto the soft leather sofa out of the line of fire!
In the same fluid motion, before the first mercenary could pull his trigger, Elias stepped forward, grabbed the barrel of the tactical shotgun, and twisted it with brutal, bone-crushing force!
CRACK!
The mercenary screamed as his wrist snapped instantly! Elias yanked the weapon from his hands, drove his heavy elbow straight into the man's throat, breaking his windpipe, and swept his leg out, sending the two-hundred-pound operative crashing headfirst into the stone hearth!
Unconscious in three seconds.
The second mercenary panicked, raising his submachine gun! "DIE!"
Elias didn't even blink. He grabbed the second man's tactical vest, dragged him forward, and slammed his head directly into the solid mahogany desk with thunderous force!
THUD!
The wooden desk cracked. The second mercenary collapsed to the floor like a sack of stones.
Tony Moretti screamed in terror, raising his pistol with two trembling hands!
Elias stepped across the room with smooth, terrifying grace—a giant of a man moving like a apex predator. He caught Tony’s wrist before the shot could be fired, squeezing until the steel frame of the gun bent and Tony dropped to his knees, howling in agony.
"You thought I was weak, Tony?" Elias growled, his voice vibrating through the walls like deep thunder as he forced Tony’s head down onto the marble floor, pressing his heavy leather boot directly onto the back of Tony’s neck.
"Please!" Tony wept into the carpet. "Please, Don Marchetti! It was Marcus! Marcus sent us! We didn't know!"
Gabriel and six heavily armed Marchetti operators slammed into the study, their rifles raised, but stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the room.
The two mercenaries were broken on the floor. Tony Moretti was pinned under Elias’s boot.
And Elias Marchetti was standing tall, immaculate, and unhurt in the center of the carnage.
"Clean this filth off my floor, Gabriel," Elias commanded coldly, stepping off Tony’s neck. "Take Tony to the basement. I will deal with Marcus Moretti personally by midnight."
"Yes, Boss!" Gabriel barked, nodding to his men, who dragged the screaming intruders out of the study.
Within forty seconds, the room was quiet again, save for the crackle of the fire and the howling rain outside.
Elias straightened his dress shirt, smoothed down his dark trousers, and slowly turned around.
Maeve was still sitting on the leather sofa where he had thrown her.
She was shaking violently, her face pale as snow, her eyes wide with a terrifying combination of shock, confusion, and overwhelming heartbreak. She stared at his strong, perfect legs, then looked up at his face.
"Elias..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, floating through the air like shattered glass. "You... you can walk."
Elias took a slow step toward her. "Maeve..."
"You were never paralyzed," she breathed, the realization sweeping over her like a tidal wave. "The wheelchair... the braces... the doctors... it was all a lie."
"Maeve, listen to me," Elias said softly, reaching his hand out toward her. "I can explain—"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Maeve shrieked, scrambling backward across the sofa until her back hit the wall, tears bursting from her eyes in hot, angry streams!
Elias froze, his hand hovering in mid-air, his heart tearing in two at the sheer terror and hurt in her face.
"You lied to me," she sobbed, clutching her knees to her chest, her small body trembling uncontrollably. "Every single day! Every time I brought you tea... every time I adjusted your blanket... every time I held your hand while you pretended to be in pain! You sat there and watched me feel sorry for you! You watched me weep for you!"
"It wasn't meant for you!" Elias pleaded, his voice cracking with genuine desperation as he took another step closer. "The trap was set for Sienna! I needed to know if she loved me or my power! I never intended for you to be dragged into this!"
Maeve looked up at him, her hazel eyes filled with a raw, agonizing disappointment that cut deeper than any knife Elias had ever felt.
"Sienna?" Maeve laughed bitterly through her tears. "You did all of this to test Sienna? You turned your whole life into a game because you couldn't trust people?"
"I had to know!" Elias shouted softly.
"And what about me, Elias?" Maeve wept, standing up from the sofa, her legs trembling so badly she could barely stand. "Did you test me too? Did you sit in that chair every afternoon enjoying the show while the maid played the dutiful little wife?"
"No!" Elias roared. "I realized I loved you!"
"You don't love me," Maeve whispered, stepping backward toward the broken doorway, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her trembling hand. "You don't even know who I am. You married a lie, Elias. And you are the biggest liar of all."
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She turned around and ran out of the study, her heels clicking frantically down the long, dark corridor toward the storm outside.
Elias stood alone in the ruins of his study, his strong, uninjured legs planted firmly on the floor, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his entire life.
