Chapter 9 - Blood on the Marble
Ronan took another heavy step forward, his boot leaving a smeared trail of crimson blood on the pristine cream-colored carpet. His breathing was ragged, his face contorted in psychotic, desperate malice as he raised the heavy iron pipe high into the air.
"You thought you were safe here?" Ronan spat, his voice thick with bitter, toxic spite. "You thought some rich mafia bastard was going to save you from me? You belong to me, Elena! You and that brat!"
Elena backed up until her spine hit the cold stone frame of the fireplace. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling little Lily tightly beneath her chin, shielding her daughter's tiny body entirely with her own frame.
"Do whatever you want to me, Ronan," Elena wept bitterly, her voice trembling with fiercely desperate motherly courage. "Just leave Lily alone! Please!"
"Nobody is leaving!" Ronan screamed, raising the iron pipe to strike!
BANG!
A deafening, thunderous gunshot exploded through the bedroom, the sheer concussive force shaking the glass in the arched windows!
Ronan’s body jolted violently mid-stride. A spray of dark crimson erupted from his right shoulder as the heavy iron pipe clattered harmlessly from his limp fingers, bouncing across the wooden floor.
Ronan let out a agonizing, choked gurgle, stumbling backward onto his knees, clutching his shattered shoulder in sheer disbelief.
Standing in the doorway of the bedroom was Vincent Moretti.
He looked like a vision of absolute death. His tailored black suit jacket was gone, his fitted dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the dark, menacing ink of the tattoos rising along his chest and neck. His dark wavy hair was damp from the rain outside, his light stubble dusted with microscopic droplets, his intense eyes burning with a cold, primordial fury that could scorch the earth.
In his right hand, held with terrifying, unshakeable stability, was his sleek black semi-automatic pistol, a thin wisp of grey gunsmoke drifting lazily from the barrel.
Flanking him was Bodyguard 1, his rifle raised, while a bruised Bodyguard 2 rushed in from the hallway, securing the doorway.
"V-Vincent..." Ronan choked out, gasping for air as he bled heavily onto the carpet, his eyes wide with pathetic, sniveling terror. "Wait... please... I was just leaving—"
Vincent didn't utter a single word.
He walked slowly across the bedroom floor, his polished black shoes stepping right past the fallen iron pipe. He didn't even look down at the bleeding man on the floor. He stepped directly over Ronan’s kneeling form, placing his broad frame between the monster and the woman he loved.
Vincent stopped in front of Elena. He lowered his weapon, his dark eyes instantly softening into a profound, gentle warmth as he looked down at her terrified face.
"Are you hurt, Elena?" Vincent asked softly, his voice a low, tender rumble that cut through the horror of the room.
Elena opened her eyes, tears streaming down her fair, rosy cheeks as she looked up at him. She shook her head rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "N-no... we're okay... you came back..."
"I promised you I would," Vincent whispered gently.
He turned his head slowly to look down at Ronan, who was crawling backward toward the hallway, whimpering like a wounded animal.
Vincent’s cold, terrifying composure returned in a fraction of a second. He motioned to Bodyguard 1 with a single, subtle flick of his fingers.
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"Take him to the river," Vincent commanded in an ice-cold, unyielding tone. "Make sure there is nothing left to find."
Bodyguard 1 and Bodyguard 2 stepped forward, seizing Ronan by his arms and dragging his screaming, weeping body out of the suite, their heavy footsteps fading down the long hallway until silence returned to the estate once more.
