Chapter 8
The chaotic fallout of the destruction hung in the air, the bright, saturated colors of the plush toys and scattered baby blankets contrasting violently with the dark reality of the violence. Evelyn whimpered from beneath the tilted frame of the nursery display, her elegant dark-red blouse stained with her own blood, her pearls scattered across the floor like broken glass.
Before Evelyn could even attempt to push the heavy decorative bins off her legs, the heavy oak doors of the nursery wing burst open.
Four towering, heavily armed bodyguards stormed into the room. They were white American adults, dressed in immaculate dark suits, their fair and rosy faces set in expressions of cold, professional lethality. They took one sweeping look at the devastated room—the unconscious Victor, the fallen matriarch, and their Boss standing flawlessly in the center holding his newborn son.
They did not ask questions. In the Carter family, loyalty was to the reigning Boss, not to the bloodline.
"Lock the doors," Daniel commanded, his American accent sharp and slicing through the quiet room. "Nobody leaves this wing."
"Yes, Mr. Carter," the lead bodyguard responded instantly. He gestured to his men, and the heavy oak doors were pulled shut. The metallic clack of the deadbolts engaging sounded like a prison cell sealing shut. Two guards stepped in front of the exits, crossing their arms, blocking any chance of escape.
Daniel slowly walked across the room, his polished leather shoes crunching over the scattered pearls and plastic debris. He stopped just inches away from where Evelyn lay trapped beneath the collapsed wooden frame and the mountain of diaper boxes.
He looked down at her. The handsome, charming features of his face had hardened into a mask of pure, sociopathic detachment. He was looking at a stranger.
Evelyn stared up at him, her chest heaving, genuine terror finally breaking through her lifelong arrogance. Her fair skin was bruised and swelling rapidly where he had struck her. She opened her mouth, perhaps to beg, perhaps to threaten, but the words died in her throat under the crushing weight of his stare.
May you like
"What did you do to my wife," Daniel asked. His voice was quiet, incredibly soft, yet it resonated with a lethal, apocalyptic promise that froze the blood in Evelyn's veins. "That I can’t even imagine?"
Evelyn’s face became a portrait of absolute, unadulterated fright. She realized, staring into the dark, empty eyes of her son, that her status as his mother would not save her from the horrific torture he was silently calculating in his mind. The bright, cinematic lighting of the room offered no shadows to hide in, exposing her guilt and her impending doom to the ruthless king she had dared to cross.
