Chapter 27 - The Velvet Trap
"You really are a monster," I whispered, feeling the cold weight of the child inside me kick against my ribs.
Helena laughed—a sharp, shrill sound that echoed off the damp corrugated metal of the warehouse. "I am a Rossi, Isabella! We do not survive by sentimental weakness! We survive by taking what is ours! Sign the paper!"
Carter stepped forward, thrusting the clipboard and an ink pen toward my face. "Do it, you bitch! Now!"
I looked at the pen. I took it into my hand, feeling the cheap plastic beneath my fingers.
*Julian, now,* I thought.
I looked up at Helena, my eyes clear, steady, and completely devoid of fear. "You made one fatal mistake, Mamma."
Helena’s smirk faltered. "What?"
"You assumed Julian Vance was the only one who learned how to hunt."
I dropped the pen.
Before Carter could react, I slammed the heel of my Louboutin down onto the arch of his foot. He shrieked in agony, dropping the clipboard. In the same second, I lunged backward, dropping flat onto the concrete floor behind an iron support beam.
"Kill her!" Helena screamed.
The roar of automatic gunfire shattered the warehouse—not from the mercenaries, but from the rafters above.
Precision laser sights cut through the darkness like crimson ribbons. In a split second of deafening violence, three sniper rounds struck the concrete around the mercenaries' feet, followed by two flashbang grenades that detonated with a blinding, concussive boom.
Helena shrieked, clutching her face as the white phosphorus flare temporarily blinded her. Carter collapsed to his knees, covering his head and sobbing like a child.
Heavy tactical boots hit the floor with thunderous force.
Julian’s private security detail swept into the light like an iron wall, disarming the mercenaries before they could even level their weapons.
Through the clearing smoke and ringing in my ears, heavy footsteps approached.
A large, warm hand grasped my shoulder, lifting me up with effortless strength. Julian pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like a fortress of steel and wool. His heart was hammering against his ribs, his breath ragged against my hair.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with terror as his hands frantically checked my arms, my face, my abdomen. "Bella, tell me you’re okay."
"I'm fine," I gasped, burying my face into the crook of his neck for a single second, inhaling the scent of rain and bergamot. "The baby is fine."
Julian released a ragged breath of relief, pressing a fierce kiss against my forehead. Then, he turned.
May you like
The tenderness vanished instantly, replaced by the terrifying, merciless aura of the executioner.
He walked slowly toward Helena, who was pinned to the concrete by two heavily armed guards, her ivory mink coat ruined, her face twisted in venomous shock.
