Chapter 4 – [THE FLAME IN THE DARKNESS]
The small, yellow flame illuminated the guard’s scarred face.
He held the Zippo casually over the spreading pool of gasoline. The sharp, chemical stench burned the inside of my nose.
“Don’t do it,” Roman commanded, his voice utterly calm, though his body was coiled tight as a spring. “Whatever Blair is paying you, I will quadruple it. Cash. Tonight.”
The guard chuckled. “It’s not about the money, boss. It’s about the throne. The council wants you out. You went soft the day that kid was born. Blair promised the council she’d run the syndicate the way your father did. Bloody and ruthless.”
My stomach plummeted. This wasn’t just a jealous fiancée trying to steal a rich husband. This was a full-blown mafia coup. Blair had orchestrated a hostile takeover from inside the house.
“And killing my daughter is part of her plan?” Roman asked, his voice deadly.
“Collateral damage,” the guard shrugged.
He moved his wrist to drop the lighter.
I didn’t think. I just reacted.
My father always told me I had a bad habit of throwing myself into traffic to save stray dogs.
As the silver lighter left the man’s fingers, I grabbed the heavy white bakery box I was still holding—the one with the crushed strawberry cake inside—and hurled it with all my strength.
The thick cardboard box slammed directly into the guard’s wrist just as the lighter was falling.
The impact knocked the lighter off course. Instead of landing in the puddle of gasoline, it bounced off the hood of the Escalade, skittered across the dry concrete, and slid under the heavy tires.
The flame extinguished instantly.
For a split second, the guard stared at his empty hand in absolute shock.
That second was all Roman needed.
Roman crossed the twelve feet between them in a terrifying blur of motion. He hit the guard with the force of a freight train, driving him violently into the concrete pillar. The sound of the impact echoed like a gunshot. The guard crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he even landed.
I gasped for air, my knees shaking so badly I almost collapsed.
Roman stood over the guard, breathing heavily. He turned his head and looked at me. His dark eyes were wide with genuine shock.
“You just assaulted a cartel hitman with a birthday cake,” Roman breathed.
I swallowed hard. “It was… a very dense cake, sir.”
A tiny, hysterical laugh bubbled out of Sara’s throat from behind the SUV. Lily was clutching her mother’s coat, peeking out with wide eyes.
“Get to the service elevator,” Roman ordered, tossing me the heavy brass override key. “Take Sara and Lily. Get them out through the tunnels. Go to the safehouse in Northbrook.”
“What about you?” Sara cried, standing up and pulling Lily with her.
“I have a house to clean,” Roman said. He reached down and pulled a sleek black handgun from the unconscious guard’s holster.
“Roman, wait,” Leo’s voice trembled from the stairs.
Leo was standing there, his own gun lowered, looking utterly broken. “They’re going to kill you up there. Blair has half the security team on her payroll. You can’t take them all.”
“Watch me,” Roman said.
He racked the slide of the pistol. The metallic clack sounded like a death sentence.
Suddenly, my apron pocket vibrated violently.
I jumped. It was my cell phone.
I pulled it out. The caller ID glowed brightly in the red emergency light.
My father’s nursing home. At this hour? They only called after 8:00 PM if there was a medical emergency.
My thumb shook as I hit answer and brought it to my ear. “H-hello?”
“Emily?” a woman’s voice said.
But it wasn’t the head nurse.
It was Blair Whitmore.
“Hello, little maid,” Blair purred through the phone. “I just bought the holding company that owns Oakhaven. I’m looking at your father’s life support monitors remotely right now. Tell Roman to drop his gun, or I press a button, and your father stops breathing.”
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