Chapter 7 - The Blood on the Velvet
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Before Matthias could process the full extent of Fiona’s betrayal, a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the estate.
The sound was deafening, vibrating through the stone walls of the study. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and several heavy books tumbled off the shelves.
“They breached the conservatory doors,” Silas said calmly, drawing a heavy, matte-black pistol from his shoulder holster. He checked the chamber in the dim lantern light.
Downstairs, the heavy, rhythmic thumping of automatic gunfire erupted. The screams of the guests were barely audible over the roar of the assault rifles. Silas’s men were holding the line, but they were severely outnumbered.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the study rattled violently. Someone was pounding on the outside.
“Boss!” A voice yelled from the corridor. It was Marcus.
Silas moved instantly, unlocking the deadbolts and pulling the door open just enough to let his man inside.
Marcus stumbled into the room, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His heavy winter coat was torn, and blood was pouring rapidly from a deep gunshot wound in his upper thigh. He collapsed onto the Persian rug, clutching his leg, his face pale and slick with sweat.
“They flanked us through the servant’s quarters,” Marcus gasped, his breathing ragged. “There’s too many of them, Boss. They’re moving up the grand staircase.”
Silas locked the door and dropped to his knees beside his bleeding enforcer. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stem the heavy flow of dark red blood. “Stay with me, Marcus.”
Serena didn't think. The trauma nurse instinct hijacked her brain, entirely overriding her fear.
She pushed herself out of the leather armchair, waddling as fast as she could to the floor.
“Move,” she ordered Silas, shoving his hands away.
Silas looked at her, surprised, but immediately stepped back to give her room.
Serena grabbed the hem of her expensive, custom-made maternity gown and ripped a massive strip of silk fabric away. She didn't hesitate. She shoved her fingers directly into Marcus’s bullet wound, locating the severed artery by touch alone.
Marcus screamed in agony, arching off the floor.
“Hold him down!” Serena barked at Silas.
Silas pinned his man’s shoulders to the rug. Serena packed the wound tightly with the torn silk, applying brutal, unrelenting pressure with the heel of her hand.
“You have a shattered femur and an arterial bleed, Marcus,” Serena said, her voice completely steady, her eyes entirely focused. “But I have the artery pinned against the bone. You are not going to bleed out. Look at me. Breathe.”
Marcus stared up at the pregnant woman, his breathing slowly stabilizing. “Yes, ma'am.”
Silas watched her. His icy eyes were wide with a mixture of absolute awe and deep, profound respect. In a room full of killers and cowards, the pregnant nurse was the most formidable person on the floor.
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Matthias, meanwhile, was backed into a corner, weeping into his hands, entirely useless.
“Serena,” Silas whispered, his voice incredibly soft despite the gunfire raging outside the door. “You never cease to amaze me.”
