Chapter 6 - THE TRAP AT THE VILLAMy blood went completely cold.
Julian.
How had he escaped the New York vaults? How had he reached Miami before us?
"Hurry up," Julian hissed to the man with the scanner, his voice tight and frantic. "Luca’s security detail at the marina was a decoy. Matteo tipped us off—Luca's meeting was delayed by twenty minutes, but we only have five before his perimeter patrols loop back to the east wing."
My breath caught in my throat. Matteo. Luca’s silver-haired Underboss was the insider traitor. He had given Julian the access codes to the villa's private docks.
"The safe lock is reinforced, boss," the masked man whispered back. "I need two more minutes to crack the sub-routine."
"We don't have two minutes!" Julian spat, pacing nervously across the thick rug. "Just plant the thermite charge! If we can't steal his ledger, we blow the entire master wing into the ocean and make it look like a rival hit!"
Thermite.
If they ignited thermite inside the suite, the explosive heat would melt through the floorboards and ignite the fuel lines running beneath the east wing, destroying the entire house—and killing everyone inside.
I knew I couldn't run. The moment I opened the terrace doors, the perimeter sensors would trip, and Julian would shoot me through the glass. I had to stop them right now.
I stepped back from the pocket doors, my mind racing. On the nightstand sat the heavy glass pitcher of water from my dinner tray, along with an aerosol bottle of room fragrance.
I grabbed the glass pitcher and flung it with all my strength against the far bathroom mirror.
CRASH!
The sound of shattering glass echoed like a gunshot through the silent suite.
"What the hell was that?!" Julian yelled from the main room.
"Check the bedroom!" the mercenary barked, drawing his weapon.
Heavy footsteps rushed toward my pocket doors. I slid behind the heavy velvet curtains beside the balcony entrance, holding my breath, my knuckles white around the heavy brass candlestick.
The pocket doors slid back with a bang. Julian stepped into the dim bedroom, his gun raised, scanning the empty bed and the shattered glass on the bathroom floor.
"Clear the room!" Julian ordered his man. "She might be hiding in the closet!"
The mercenary stepped past my curtain to check the walk-in closet.
The moment his back was turned to me, I stepped out from behind the velvet drape and slammed the heavy brass candlestick with all my strength directly into the back of his knee.
The mercenary let out a muffled grunt of agony as his leg buckled, his gun clattering onto the hardwood floor.
Julian spun around, raising his suppressed pistol directly toward my chest. "You again, you little bitch—!"
BOOM!
The floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the master balcony exploded inward in a shower of brilliant, shimmering shards.
A massive black figure burst through the shattered frame like a hurricane of death.
Luca.
Before Julian could even pull the trigger, Luca’s heavy hand slammed into Julian’s wrist, shattering the bone with a sickening CRACK. Julian screamed as his gun flew across the room.
Luca didn't stop. He grabbed Julian by the front of his tactical vest, lifted his entire six-foot frame into the air, and slammed him spine-first onto the marble coffee table, shattering the thick glass into a thousand pieces.
The mercenary on the floor tried to reach for his dropped pistol, but Luca didn't even turn around—he casually drew his own custom Kimber .45 from his waist belt and fired a single round through the mercenary's shoulder, pinning him to the floorboards.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by Julian’s agonized groans from the ruined table.
Luca stood over him, his black linen shirt stained with fresh glass dust, his chest heaving. He slowly turned his head to look at me.
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I was standing near the curtains, breathing heavily, still holding the bent brass candlestick in my trembling hands.
Luca holstered his weapon, walked straight across the shattered room, and pulled me violently into his arms.
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