Chapter 3 - Blood on the Velvet
The silence in the room shattered without a sound. The shooter fired twice through the suppressed barrel, the suppressed thuds ripping through the heavy velvet drapes just above Alec's head as Alec dove forward across the floor.
Dr. Evans dove behind the dresser, crying out in terror as glass shattered from the vanity mirror. Alec rolled, kicking the heavy mahogany nightstand into the shooter’s path. The wooden frame cracked under the impact, knocking the assassin off balance for a split second—a fraction of time Alec exploited with ruthless efficiency.
Lurching up, Alec closed the distance, his hand gripping the assassin’s wrist, twisting it inward until the bone snapped with a sickening crunch. The suppressed pistol fell onto the plush rug. Alec drove an elbow into the man’s throat, slamming his head against the elevator doorframe until the assassin went limp, eyes rolling back.
Alec searched the unconscious man's pockets quickly. A silver coin fell out—stamped with the crest of the Iron Ring, the private mercenary faction that Clara's family had supposedly severed ties with years ago.
""Evans, get over here,"" Alec barked, breathing hard as he kicked the fallen weapon toward the corner.
The doctor scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees, clutching his medical kit. ""Mr. Thorne, she's losing too much blood. Her pulse is thready.""
""Patch her up. Give her a local anesthetic for the ribs and back. If she goes into shock, you won't leave this room alive,"" Alec warned coldly.
Alec returned to the bedside. Clara was pale, her eyes half-closed, watching him through a haze of shock and agony. He took her clammy hand in his. ""You told me Julian was alive until three months ago. Where is he?""
Clara tried to swallow, her throat parched. ""The... the warehouse at Pier 42. My father... he traded him to the syndicate. Alec, the assassin wasn't sent to kill you.""
Alec narrowed his eyes. ""What do you mean?""
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""He was sent... to take the thumb drive in my corset,"" she wheezed, her head lolling back as Dr. Evans plunged a syringe of painkiller into her arm.
Alec reached down, his fingers searching the ripped lining of her wedding corset. Beneath the lace, taped against the silk lining, his fingertips brushed a small metal drive. As he ripped it free, the lights in the entire penthouse violently flickered and died, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness, followed by the distant shrieking of the mansion's main security alarms.
