Chapter 8 - A Shadow in the Night
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The midnight silence of the estate was broken only by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the cliffs outside.
Seraphina lay awake in the massive bed in the east wing. Despite the luxurious surroundings and the promise of protection, her instincts were screaming. The dinner had been a declaration of war, and she was the primary target.
A faint, almost imperceptible click echoed from the hallway.
She froze, holding her breath. The heavy mahogany door of her suite slowly creaked open.
The hallway lights had been cut. A dark figure slipped into the room, moving with terrifying, silent precision. The intruder held a long, suppressed pistol, creeping toward the edge of her bed.
Seraphina didn't scream. She rolled silently off the opposite side of the mattress, dropping to the plush carpet.
The intruder raised the weapon, firing three rapid, muffled shots directly into the pillows where she had been sleeping seconds before. The dull thwip-thwip-thwip of the silenced gun sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through her veins.
Realizing the bed was empty, the assassin spun around, scanning the darkness.
Seraphina grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the bedside table. As the intruder stepped around the foot of the bed, she swung with all her strength.
The brass connected sickeningly with the side of the man’s head. He grunted, stumbling backward, his gun firing a wild shot into the ceiling.
Before he could recover, the doors to her suite blew completely open.
Elias stood in the doorway, a heavy, customized .45 caliber pistol in his hand. He didn't hesitate. He fired a single, perfect shot.
The assassin collapsed backward onto the carpet, dead before he hit the ground.
Elias rushed into the room, kicking the assassin’s weapon away. He turned to Seraphina, who was backed against the wall, clutching the brass lamp, trembling violently.
“Are you hurt?” Elias demanded, his voice rough with panic. He closed the distance between them, dropping his gun onto the bed and grabbing her by the shoulders. His eyes frantically searched her body for blood.
“I’m fine,” Seraphina gasped, dropping the lamp. “He shot the pillows. I rolled away.”
Elias pulled her fiercely against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, his massive body shuddering with a raw, unprotected relief. The cold, untouchable mafia boss was holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
“I told you I would protect you,” Elias whispered fiercely into her ear. “I will burn this entire estate to ashes before I let them touch you.”
He pulled back, his gray eyes locking onto hers. The tension between them, fueled by adrenaline and proximity, ignited into a sudden, consuming fire.
He didn't think. He simply leaned down and crashed his lips against hers.
It was a desperate, bruising kiss. Seraphina gasped, but she didn't push him away. Her hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, kissing the monster who had become her only shield.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Elias looked down at the dead assassin on the floor.
“Stefan,” Elias barked toward the hallway.
The guard ran into the room, taking in the bloody scene.
“Take his mask off,” Elias ordered coldly.
May you like
Stefan knelt and ripped the black ski mask from the dead man’s face. It was one of Silvio’s personal bodyguards.
“My uncle has made his move,” Elias said, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register. “Now, we make ours.”
