Chapter 5 - The Red Truce
Christian caught the iron poker effortlessly with one bloody hand, arresting the swing mid-air without blinking. ""Control yourself, woman. I am keeping her alive.""
Serena froze, the realization of what she was doing finally piercing her panic. She saw the shattered glass, the bullet holes marking the wall, and her daughter held securely against Christian's chest, unharmed save for the blood transfer from his own wounds. She dropped the iron poker; it clattered loudly against the floor.
""They found us,"" Serena wept, sinking to her knees again, completely broken by the relentless violence she had spent years fleeing. ""I thought... I thought we were safe in the city.""
""No one is safe anywhere,"" Christian said coldly, stepping past her and heading down the reinforced central hallway of the mansion, carrying Mia effortlessly on his hip. ""And they didn't track you. They tracked me. But now, they've seen you both. You leave my perimeter, and you die in the streets within twenty minutes.""
Mia held onto Christian’s neck tightly. Her small arms were surprisingly strong, and her warmth seeped through the cold fabric of his suit. ""You smell like burnt metal,"" she remarked calmly against his collar.
""That's gunpowder, little one,"" Christian muttered, his steps fast and purposeful as five armored bodyguards surrounded them, forming a walking shield as they descended into the subterranean bunker beneath the mansion.
The heavy steel vault door hissed open with a pneumatic release. Inside, the command center was lit by cool LED strips and glowing monitor banks displaying perimeter cameras. Julian was already there, wiping mud from his combat boots, a dark look in his eyes.
""The shooter is dead,"" Julian reported, stepping aside to let Christian enter. ""Professional contract. Russian insignia under his collar, but the weapon is Moretti stock. They are working together.""
Christian placed Mia down on a leather swivel chair, then turned to Julian. ""Seal the estate. No supplies in, no waste out. Bring Dr. Evans down to check the girl for glass splinters.""
""I don't have splinters,"" Mia announced from her giant leather chair, swinging her feet rhythmically. ""Mommy has a cut on her knee, though.""
Christian glanced down at Serena, who was leaning against the steel doorframe, shivering. Sure enough, a deep laceration ran down her right knee, sustained when she fell upon the porcelain teacup earlier.
Christian approached Serena slowly. He knelt before her, his massive frame casting a shadow over her trembling form. He produced a clean linen handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it firmly against her wound.
""Why did you come back to my city, Serena?"" he asked, his voice low, devoid of audience. ""You knew what I was.""
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Serena looked down at him, her eyes burning with a mother's agonizing truth. ""Because she has a heart defect, Christian. The pediatric specialist at St. Jude's was the only one who could save her. And the only person who owns the foundation funding that wing... is you.""
Christian stopped breathing. He turned his head slowly to look at Mia, who was humming a childish tune, perfectly oblivious to the death that surrounded her.
