Chapter 5 - The Barrel of a Gun
Julian stepped further into the nursery, his leather shoes crunching softly over a piece of shattered glass from the transom window. His eyes flicked from me to the little girl trembling in my arms, and a cold, sadistic grin spread across his face.
“You really should have stayed at the diner, Clara,” Julian mocked softly, keeping the suppressor barrel locked dead between my eyes. “Life was so simple when you thought your baby was six feet under. Why couldn't you just pour coffee and keep your mouth shut?”
“You monster,” I choked out, tears streaming down my face as I tightened my grip around Leah. “You stole my child. You ruined my life.”
“I managed a portfolio,” Julian corrected smoothly, adjusting his tie with his free hand. “And now, unfortunately, your sudden reappearance is causing a massive fluctuation in my stock options. Damian’s empire is built on blood and succession. Once I eliminate you and the girl, the board will have no choice but to name me interim executor.”
He cocked the hammer of the pistol. The metallic click sounded louder than the explosions echoing downstairs.
I closed my eyes, pressing my face into Leah’s hair, whispering a frantic, silent prayer that Damian would make it in time.
Suddenly, a massive, bone-crushing impact slammed into Julian from the side.
A guttural roar echoed through the nursery as Damian Caruso tackled Julian to the floor with the terrifying momentum of a falling boulder. The silenced pistol flew out of Julian’s hand, skittering across the hardwood floor and sliding under the heavy oak dresser.
Julian gasped for air as Damian pinned him to the ground, his massive hands wrapping around Julian’s throat with lethal, bone-crushing pressure.
“You touch my daughter,” Damian growled, his voice dropping into a demonic whisper that vibrated through the floorboards. “You touch my wife... and I won't just kill you, Julian. I will erase your entire bloodline from this earth.”
Julian clawed frantically at Damian’s wrists, his face turning a deep, dangerous shade of purple as oxygen failed him.
Sirens began wailing in the distance—dozens of them, closing in fast from the highway below, signaling that Damian’s private backup and local law enforcement had finally breached the estate's outer perimeter.
Damian didn't kill him. With a final, contemptuous shove, he tossed Julian across the room like a broken doll, sending him crashing hard into the wall where he slumped unconscious onto the rug.
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Damian stood up, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath his ruined shirt. He turned around, his dark eyes meeting mine through the smoke and haze of the room.
Before he could take a step toward us, the smoke detector in the hallway gave a sharp, piercing shriek, and a tongue of orange flame leaped up the doorframe behind him.
