Chapter 29
Time seemed to fracture into agonizing, slow-motion fragments.
Vanessa’s finger tightened on the trigger. The suppressed pistol spat a single, lethal round.
The bullet struck the weakened steel cable supporting the three-ton crystal chandelier. With a deafening, metallic groan, the cable snapped.
"Boss, move!" Bruno roared, lunging forward.
Gabriel didn't have time to run. He dove to the side, rolling violently across the shattered marble floor just as the massive chandelier plummeted from the vaulted ceiling.
It struck the ground with the force of a bomb. Thousands of razor-sharp crystal shards exploded outward in a blinding, glittering wave of destruction, tearing into the walls and shredding everything in their path.
A heavy brass strut from the chandelier struck Gabriel’s leg, pinning him to the floor. He grunted in pain, struggling to free himself, his rifle knocked several feet out of his reach.
Vanessa laughed—a high, hysterical sound that sent chills down the spine of everyone in the room. She walked slowly down the sweeping marble staircase, keeping her pistol aimed steadily at Gabriel’s pinned form.
"Look at you," Vanessa mocked, stepping over the glittering debris. "The great Gabriel Moretti, brought down by his own extravagant taste. It’s poetic, really."
"You're pathetic, Vanessa," Gabriel ground out, straining against the heavy brass strut crushing his leg. His slate-gray eyes burned with unyielding defiance. "You burned down your own family, you sold yourself to the Russians, and for what? Because you couldn't stand the fact that I loved a maid more than I ever loved you?"
Vanessa’s face twisted into an ugly mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You embarrassed me! You threw me out of this house like garbage in front of the entire syndicate! I was supposed to be the queen of Chicago!"
She stopped three feet away from him, raising the pistol and aiming it directly at his head.
"Say goodbye to your little family, Gabriel," Vanessa whispered, her finger tightening on the trigger.
Before she could fire, a heavy steel door groaned open in the hallway behind the grand staircase.
"Vanessa!" a sharp, commanding voice rang out.
Vanessa flinched, turning her head slightly.
Standing in the archway, breathing heavily, was Rachel.
She had left the safety of the bunker. She wasn't wearing her midnight-blue evening gown anymore; she had changed into a simple black tactical jacket. In her hands, she held the heavy, silver-plated revolver Gabriel had left in the server room for her protection.
Her hands were shaking, but her brown eyes were locked onto Vanessa with the terrifying, absolute resolve of a mother defending her home.
"Put the gun down, Rachel," Vanessa sneered, turning her pistol toward the other woman. "You don't have the stomach to pull that trigger. You're just a glorified housekeeper."
"I am Rachel Moretti," Rachel said, her voice steadying, ringing clear and strong over the settling dust of the ruined foyer. "And you are trespassing in my house."
Without hesitation, without a single micro-expression of fear, Rachel pulled the trigger.
May you like
The heavy revolver roared, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.
The bullet struck Vanessa squarely in the shoulder. The impact spun the blonde woman around, her pistol flying from her grasp as she collapsed backward onto the shattered marble floor, screaming in agony.
