Chapter 2 - The Price of Shielding an Heir
Time didn't slow down like it always did in cheap cinematic thrillers; instead, it accelerated with terrifying, violent speed. The first high-velocity bullet shattered the crystal chandelier above our heads, sending a glittering cascade of razor-sharp glass shards raining down across the polished marble floor. Before the second bullet could even explode through a decorative display of white roses nearby, my instincts—honed by a past I had spent years trying to bury—took absolute control of my body.
I didn't pause to calculate the odds of survival, nor did I think about my own safety. I simply threw my entire body forward, wrapping my arms around Caleb and driving us both hard against the floor just as the second round hissed through the space where his head had been a microsecond earlier.
The third shot tore mercilessly through my left shoulder, the searing heat of the lead projectile accompanied by a sickening pop of tearing muscle and bone. Two more immediate impacts slammed into my back with the staggering force of a sledgehammer, feeling like thick iron spikes being violently driven straight into my ribs.
Caleb screamed beneath my chest, terrified and uncomprehending.
“Don’t look up! Keep your face down!” I gasped out, my voice straining as a hot, metallic wave of blood surged up my throat and spilled past my lips.
Within seconds, total chaos erupted across the ballroom. Shouting guards, shattering wine glasses, and panicked screams echoed off the vaulted ceilings. But cutting sharply through the din came the thunderous roar of Dominic Mercer’s voice, commanding his security detail to secure every exit.
Then Dominic was there.
The most terrifying, unshakeable crime lord in New York dropped straight to his polished Italian leather shoes beside me on the blood-stained marble. The cold, impenetrable mask he always wore vanished entirely, replaced by raw, frantic panic that destroyed every trace of his usual chilling composure.
“Stay with me, Mara! Keep your eyes open!” Dominic ordered, his hands shaking visibly as he pressed his bare palms over my bleeding shoulder to stem the crimson tide. “You do not have my permission to die after saving my boy!”
Caleb was completely unharmed, sobbing softly beneath my arm. That was enough. That was all that mattered.
My vision began tunneling rapidly, the brilliant crystal lights of the ballroom dimming into a heavy, suffocating grey fog as Dominic frantically lifted my limp body into his arms to rush me toward a waiting vehicle.
Then, cutting through the roaring in my ears and the screams of the terrified guests, a low, smooth voice spoke from the shadows near the terrace doors.
It was a voice I hadn't heard in eight years. A voice that belonged to a ghost. A voice tied to the federal indictment, the burning safehouse, and the betrayal that had forced me to assume the identity of Mara Ellis.
The man didn't shout. He leaned casually against a marble pillar and whispered my true, forgotten birth name right into the empty air.
May you like
My eyes forced themselves wide open despite the creeping darkness. Across the blood-spattered ballroom stood someone who was legally, officially dead.
And as our eyes locked across the room, he was smiling.
