Chapter 4 - The Blind Kill
The sharp ping of metal skittering across marble triggered Christian’s instincts before his mind could calculate the distance. He didn't wait for Clara's count. He grabbed Titan's collar with one hand and Clara's waist with the other, hurling all three of them around the reinforced marble pillar that anchored the grand staircase.
The flashbang detonated with a concussive roar that shattered the remaining upper transom windows and left Christian's ears ringing with a high-pitched scream. Even in the blinding white aftermath, Titan was already gone.
A guttural, terrifying shriek tore through the darkness from the far end of the room. Titan had found his mark. The sickening crunch of shattered bone echoed over the heavy bass of an assault rifle discharging blindly into the plaster ceiling. Christian rounded the pillar, gun raised, firing twice by muzzle flash.
The second intruder stumbled, his silhouette illuminated briefly by the sparks of his own weapon hitting the floor, before collapsing against a fallen marble bust.
Silence rushed back into the room, broken only by the panting of the hound and Clara’s uneven breaths.
""Titan! Back!"" Clara called out, her voice trembling slightly.
The Cane Corso trotted out of the shadows, blood coating his dark muzzle, his eyes shining amber in the faint moonlight filtering through the shattered terrace. He sat beside Clara, nudging her knee, completely unbothered by the violence he had just dispensed.
Christian stood up slowly, lowering his weapon, his gaze scanning the bodies. He kicked the rifle away from the fallen mercenary and knelt beside the man Titan had downed. He ripped the tactical balaclava off the limp face.
Clara walked over, wrapping her torn silk robe tightly around herself. She looked down at the dead operative, and her stomach plummeted.
""You recognize him,"" Christian stated, his voice flat, dangerously cold. He didn't look up at her, but his fingers dug into the dead man’s tactical vest, pulling out a silver pendant stamped with an embossed crest: a serpent coiled around a dagger.
""It’s not possible,"" Clara whispered, stepping back until her back hit the grand piano. ""He died in Berlin six years ago.""
""Nobody dies in our world, Clara. They just wait until their debts become profitable,"" Christian said, standing up and towering over her once more. His eyes pierced through the gloom, settling on her throat where a faint red mark burned—a bruise from where she had struck the floor.
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""Who was he, Clara?"" Christian demanded, closing the distance between them until his shadow enveloped her entirely. ""Tell me now, or I release this dog from whatever loyalty he owes you.""
Clara lifted her chin, swallowing hard. ""He was my brother. And your father paid him to disappear.""
