Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF LOYALTY
The impact sent Victor crashing to the floor, his pistol skidding away across the bloodied marble.
Claire didn't give him a second to recover. She rolled off his back, drove her knee into his ribs, and swept his leg out from under him with terrifying efficiency.
Victor, a seasoned street fighter twice her size, roared in anger, throwing a heavy backhand punch that caught Claire across the jaw. She absorbed the blow, her head snapping back, but she didn't lose her balance. She ducked beneath his second hook, drove a palm strike directly into his nose, and pulled a tactical sidearm from her waist holster.
Victor scrambled backward against the ruined stone wall, wiping blood from his broken nose, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief as he looked at the woman holding a pistol two inches from his eyes.
"What the hell are you?" Victor choked out. "A bodyguard?"
Claire stood over him, her breathing calm, her eyes cold as winter frost. "I'm the maid. And you just tracked mud across my clean floors."
She didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger once, putting a round cleanly through Victor’s shoulder, shattering his collarbone and pinning him against the floor.
"Marcus!" Claire dropped to her knees beside me, her hands immediately flying across my chest, checking my throat, my ribs, and my neck with rapid medical expertise. "Can you breathe? Talk to me!"
I coughed, spitting out a mouthful of concrete dust, wincing as pain flared through my left side. "Ribs... broken... I think."
"Hold still," she commanded softly, her hands gentle as she leveraged a fallen steel beam to lift the heavy stone slab off my chest.
With a heavy grunt, she pushed the stone aside and pulled me up into a sitting position. She leaned my back against the wall, her hands hovering over my face, checking my pupils for signs of a concussion.
"You're going to live, mob boss," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with an emotion she tried desperately to hide. "Two cracked ribs and a severe contusion. You're lucky."
I looked up at her face. A small cut was bleeding above her left eyebrow where Victor had struck her, but her gaze was fierce, warm, and entirely focused on me.
"You jumped off a second-floor balcony," I rasped out, a weak chuckle breaking from my lips before pain cut it short. "Are all military doctors this insane?"
"Only the ones who care about their patients," she murmured, wiping a smudge of dirt from my cheek with her thumb.
The touch was soft, warm, and sent a strange, electric shock straight to my heart.
Behind us, a groan echoed from the hallway.
Victor Ross was writhing on the floor, holding his shattered shoulder, glaring at us with hatred. "You think... you think this is over, Vale? My men... my entire organization in Detroit... they'll hunt you down... they'll kill your daughters..."
I slowly pushed myself up off the floor, leaning heavily against Claire’s shoulder. She supported my weight without a second thought, her arm wrapped firmly around my waist.
I retrieved my pistol from the floor and walked over to Victor.
"Your organization is finished, Victor," I said, my voice dropping into an ominous promise. "By sunrise, my lieutenants in Miami and New York will receive the footage from my security cameras. They will know you attacked my home. Every asset you own in the Midwest will be seized or burned by tomorrow evening."
I looked at Claire, then back at Victor.
May you like
"And as for you," I added coldness back into my tone. "You're going to tell me every single crooked cop and politician on your payroll before I let my doctor fix your shoulder."
Victor looked at the two of us—the wounded syndicate boss and the deadly tactical surgeon standing side by side—and realized his empire had collapsed in a single night.
