Chapter 5 - The Trap at Midnight
The rain had turned into a full-scale tempest by the following evening.
Thunder shook the heavy stone foundations of The Obsidian, lightning flashing through the darkness, illuminating the grand courtyard in sharp, jagged bursts of white light.
I stood in the estate’s private library, holding a silver tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses.
My heart was beating like a trapped bird against my ribs. I was wearing a simple, high-necked dark dress that Roman’s staff had provided—clean, elegant, but simple enough to keep up the appearance of a personal attendant.
The double doors of the library slammed open.
Viktor walked in first, his massive frame filling the doorway. Behind him came three men in tailored suits—captains from the Vale Syndicate. They looked nervous, their eyes darting around the high-ceilinged room lined with thousands of leather-bound books.
At the center of the room, sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, was Roman.
He looked every inch the lord of the underworld. A dark velvet jacket draped over his shoulders, a crystal glass of bourbon resting near his right hand, his gray eyes burning with cold, absolute authority.
"Captains," Roman said, his voice cutting through the distant rumble of thunder. "Sit."
The three men sat down immediately on the leather chairs arranged across from the desk.
"Roman," the eldest captain—a man named Moretti with white hair and a thick golden ring on his pinky—spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. "Word reached the docks that you woke up. We... we didn't believe it. Dante told us—"
"Dante told you I was a corpse," Roman finished smoothly. He reached out, taking a small sip of his bourbon. "Dante told you a lot of things while I was sleeping, didn't he, Moretti?"
Moretti swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the silver tray I was holding. "Roman, we didn't know! Dante said the doctors gave no hope! He said the Moretti family was moving on our territory and we needed a strong hand—"
"Dante sold three of my shipping containers to the Morettis yesterday morning," Roman interrupted calmly. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a thick manila folder, and tossed it onto the mahogany desk. "Two million dollars transferred directly into a shell account in Zurich."
The three captains leaned forward, reading the bank statements and signed shipping manifests inside the folder. Their faces turned pale in the dim light.
"He betrayed the family," the second captain whispered, horror creeping into his tone.
"He tried to murder me," Roman corrected, his voice dropping into an ice-cold register. "And tonight, he thinks he’s going to finish the job."
Suddenly, the lights throughout the library flickered... once... twice... and plunged into total, pitch darkness.
The heavy hum of the mansion's central power grid died. The only light remaining came from the jagged flashes of lightning outside the tall glass windows.
"What the hell?!" Moretti shouted, jumping up from his chair.
"Stay down!" Viktor barked, his heavy gun clearing his holster with a sharp, metallic click.
Outside in the hallway, the sound of muffled gunfire erupted.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Silenced shots shattered the quiet of the estate. Shouting voices, heavy boots stomping across marble, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the floor echoed from the grand foyer.
I dropped the silver tray. The glass shattered against the rug as I backed up against the wall, terror seizing my throat. Lily! She was upstairs in the bedroom!
"Viktor," Roman called out into the dark, his voice unfazed, completely calm. "Is the perimeter secure?"
"The secondary grid is taking three minutes to kick in, Boss," Viktor reported from the darkness beside the door. "Dante's men cut the main lines from the basement."
The library doors swung open with a loud BANG.
A flash of lightning illuminated the doorway.
Standing in the frame was Dante Cross. He held a silenced black pistol in his right hand, his face splattered with blood, his suit ruined by the rain. Behind him stood five heavily armed hitmen in dark tactical gear.
"It ends tonight, Roman!" Dante screamed over the thunder, his eyes wild with unhinged madness. "You should have stayed dead! You were supposed to die in that bed!"
Dante raised his pistol, aiming it straight at Roman’s head.
In the dark, I saw Roman move.
He didn't duck. He didn't cover his face. He simply reached under his mahogany desk and pressed a small red button.
BOOM!
The backup generators roared back to life with a deafening surge of electricity. High-powered halogen floodlights installed along the library ceiling snapped on, blinding Dante and his hitmen in a blinding white glare.
Dante gasped, shielding his eyes with his arm.
Before his hitmen could adjust to the light, twelve of Roman’s loyal guards emerged from behind the heavy velvet curtains lining the walls, their weapons drawn and pointed directly at the intruders' heads.
"Drop your weapons," Roman commanded, standing up slowly from behind his desk.
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He pulled a sleek nickel-plated revolver from his waistband, clicking the hammer back with a sound that filled the silent room.
"It's over, Dante," Roman murmured softly. "You lose."
