Chapter 3 - Blood on the Marble
The grandfather clock in the south hall chimed two in the morning.
I couldn’t sleep. The guest bedroom they had moved me into was the size of my entire apartment, with silk sheets, a king-sized mattress, and French doors leading out to a stone balcony overlooking the gardens. But every shadow looked like a gunman, and every rustle of the wind against the glass sounded like an executioner's footstep.
Thirsty and restless, I crept out of bed. I hadn't been given back my uniform; instead, someone had left a soft gray cashmere sweater and black leggings on the dresser. They fit perfectly, which only made me more paranoid about how much Adrian Voss knew about me.
I crept down the west wing staircase in bare feet, heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The mansion was deadly quiet, illuminated only by recessed floor lighting that cast long, predatory shadows along the walls.
Then I heard it.
A dull *thud*. Followed by the unmistakable sound of shattered glass near the conservatory.
Every instinct screamed at me to run back upstairs, lock the door, and hide in the closet. But if someone was in the house—if the tampered pipe had just been the prelude—Adrian was in danger. And if Adrian died, my brother’s lifeline died with him.
I didn't think. I grabbed a heavy bronze statuette of an eagle off a side table and moved silently toward the sound.
The conservatory was a massive glass dome filled with exotic ferns, orchids, and shadows. The moonlight filtered through the glass, painting the floor in silver and blue. Near the double doors leading to the courtyard, a silhouette moved.
The figure was dressed in black tactical gear, holding a suppressed pistol. He was stepping over the body of one of Adrian’s night guards, moving methodically toward the master wing.
My pulse hammered in my ears. I was barefoot, clutching a bronze bird, facing an assassin.
*Stupid, Maya. Incredibly, profoundly stupid.*
The intruder stepped past a massive ceramic planter.
I didn't try to fight him. I threw the bronze eagle with everything I had—not at him, but straight into the glass display cabinet filled with decorative antique plates twenty feet to his left.
The crash echoed through the marble hallway like a bomb going off.
The intruder spun instantly, raising his weapon toward the sound. In that split second of distraction, a shadow detached itself from the ceiling alcove above him.
Adrian.
He dropped like a panther, striking the assassin before the man could turn his gun. The impact hit the marble floor with a bone-crushing crunch. Adrian didn't hesitate. One hand grabbed the assassin’s wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped audibly, sending the pistol clattering across the floor. With his other hand, Adrian drove a combat knife cleanly through the gap in the man’s tactical vest.
The intruder let out a choked gasp, convulsed once, and went limp.
Silence fell again, thick and suffocating.
Adrian stood up slowly. He was wearing black trousers and an unbuttoned black shirt, his bare chest slick with sweat and speckled with blood that wasn't his. In his hand, the blade caught the moonlight, dripping crimson onto the imported Italian marble.
He turned his head. His eyes locked onto mine where I stood frozen behind a marble pillar.
“I told you to stay in your room,” he breathed, his voice dangerously low.
“I... I wanted water,” I choked out, staring at the dead man on the floor.
Adrian took two long strides toward me. He didn't drop the knife. He reached out with his free hand, gripping my shoulder, checking me for wounds with rapid, violent efficiency. “Did he see you?”
“No,” I whispered, trembling. “I threw the bird.”
Adrian paused. He glanced back at the shattered antique display, then down at me. The lethal coldness in his eyes flickered, replaced by an emotion so intense it made my knees weak.
“You threw a two-thousand-dollar antique at my plates to distract a professional hitman?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” My voice shook violently. The reality of what had just happened was crashing down on me. There was a dead body five yards away. There was blood on the floor. I was in a monster's den.
Adrian saw the tremor. Before I could fall apart, he pulled me against his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin. His heartbeat was fast, steady, and terrifyingly strong.
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“You’re safe,” he muttered into my hair. “Nobody touches you in this house, Maya. Nobody.”
***