Chapter 8
The grand foyer of the Ashford estate, still scarred from the night's battle, became a makeshift executioner’s block. The remaining crystal chandeliers cast a harsh, unforgiving light on the polished marble floor.
Julian, the head of security, was dragged into the room by Dante and two massive enforcers. Julian’s nose was bleeding, his tactical suit disheveled, but his eyes darted around the room with the frantic energy of a cornered rat. They threw him to his knees in the center of the foyer.
Roman walked slowly down the sweeping grand staircase. He moved with the predatory, silent grace of an apex predator. He held his heavy pistol at his side, his angular jaw locked in a mask of absolute, terrifying calm.
"Boss, I swear, I don't know what this is about!" Julian panicked, struggling against the grips of the enforcers. "I've been loyal for five years!"
Roman stopped a few feet away, towering over the kneeling man. "Loyal. That’s an interesting choice of words, Julian."
"I am!" Julian pleaded, sweating profusely.
"Yesterday afternoon," Roman began, his voice a low, echoing rumble that sent shivers down the spines of his own men. "Dahlia Mercer locked a woman under my protection in a pantry. She used the intercom to ask someone to engage the electronic deadbolt. She called him by name. 'Lock it down, Julian.'"
Julian’s face went chalk-white. He swallowed hard, realizing his lie was completely unraveled.
"And last night," Roman continued, taking a slow step closer, "Victor Mercer’s hit squad bypassed the outer perimeter cameras. They knew the blind spots. They knew the guard rotation. Because you downloaded the encrypted files and sold us out."
"Roman, please, listen to me!" Julian begged, tears springing to his eyes. "Victor Mercer offered me three million dollars! He said Dahlia was going to be your wife anyway, that taking you out and putting her in charge was what the Commission wanted! I did it for the stability of the syndicate!"
"You did it for greed," Roman stated coldly, raising his pistol. "You endangered my son. You endangered the woman I love."
Julian, realizing he was a dead man, made a desperate, suicidal move. He reached into his boot, drawing a concealed, compact derringer pistol he had managed to hide from the guards. He brought it up, aiming wildly at Roman’s chest.
Before Julian could pull the trigger, the deafening roar of a gunshot shattered the silence of the foyer.
But it wasn't Roman who fired.
Julian gasped, his eyes going wide. A blossoming red stain spread across his chest. He dropped the derringer, collapsing forward onto the marble floor, dead.
Roman spun around, his weapon raised, searching for the shooter.
Standing on the landing of the grand staircase, holding a smoking 9mm pistol with trembling hands, was Nina. She had disobeyed his order to stay in the study. She had followed him, and when she saw Julian draw his hidden weapon, she had reacted with pure, primal instinct to protect the man she loved.
Roman lowered his gun, staring at the gentle, beautiful maid who had just taken a life to save his.
Nina dropped the pistol, her knees buckling. Roman sprinted up the stairs, catching her before she hit the floor. He crushed her to his chest, burying his face in her hair.
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"I couldn't let him hurt you," Nina sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder, her delicate frame shaking violently.
"I know, baby. I know," Roman whispered fiercely, holding her tighter. The reality of his brutal world had finally tainted her, but in doing so, she had proven that she was truly meant to be the queen of his empire. "It's over. I've got you."
