Chapter 7 - FIRE IN THE GARDEN
Plaster dust and shattered glass rained down on us as the gunfire roared.
Julian grabbed my waist, lifting me off my feet, and threw us behind a heavy stone pillar just as another volley of bullets ripped through the outdoor furniture.
"Leo!" Julian roared into his wrist radio. "Status!"
"Surprise attack at the south gate!" Leo’s voice crackled through the static over gunshots. "They came in through the lake side! Marcone’s mercenaries!"
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Terror clutched my throat. I had never heard a real gun before tonight.
"Arthur," I gasped, clutching Julian’s jacket. "Julian, Arthur is in the main library!"
Julian’s face went deadly pale. "Stay here. Hide in the wine cellar behind the kitchen!"
"No!" I shouted over the deafening noise. "He'll be terrified! He won't understand what the noise is! He'll run outside!"
Julian looked at me, seeing the absolute determination in my eyes. "Follow me. Keep low!"
We sprinted through the smoke-filled grand hallway. Julian moved with terrifying grace, leaning around corners, firing precise shots that dropped two masked intruders before they could even aim. He was a force of nature—lethal, cold, unstoppable.
We reached the library doors. They were kicked off their hinges.
Inside, Arthur was crouched in the corner under a massive oak desk, covering his ears, sobbing hysterically. A tall man in black tactical gear was pointing a rifle right at him.
"Don't shoot!" I screamed without thinking.
The gunman turned toward me, raising his rifle.
Before he could pull the trigger, Julian tackled him like a rabid wolf. The two men slammed into the glass display cases, fighting violently on the floor. The gunman pulled a combat knife, slicing Julian across the forearm. Julian didn't even flinch—he grabbed the attacker's wrist, snapped it with a sickening crack, and brought his pistol up, ending the fight instantly.
Blood dripped from Julian’s arm onto the Persian rug. He didn't care. He turned toward his father.
Arthur was screaming, completely lost in a dementia-induced panic attack. "Martha! Martha, where are you?!"
Julian reached for him, but Arthur struck out wildly. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!"
Julian froze, looking utterly heartbroken as his father shrank away from him in horror.
I slid across the floor, ignoring the smoke, and knelt right in front of Arthur. I took his trembling, bloody hands into mine.
"Arthur," I said, my voice sweet, calm, and steady despite the chaos around us. "Look at me. Look at Chloe."
Arthur blinked through his tears, his eyes focusing on my face. "Chloe...?"
"Yes," I smiled, wiping a spot of ash from his cheek. "The storm is almost over. We're just playing a game. Let's go see the roses."
Arthur’s breathing slowed down. His hands stopped shaking. "The roses...?"
May you like
"Yes. Come with me."
I helped Arthur stand up, guiding him safely toward the hidden panic room behind the library wall. Julian watched me, his chest heaving, his dark eyes filled with an overwhelming emotion that looked dangerously like love.
