Chapter 3 - Blood on the Hardwood
The flash-bang detonated with a concussive roar that rattled the floorboards and flooded the penthouse with blinding white light and deafening sound.
Naomi screamed, her hands flying to her ears as she dropped to her knees. The world spun into a blur of smoke, shadows, and chaos.
Before her vision could clear, heavy boots thudded across the floor. Two masked men dressed in black tactical gear poured through the shattered doorway, their submachine guns raised. They weren’t looking for Daniel—they were sweeping the room for her.
“Target sighted!” one of them barked into a comms unit. “Securing the nurse.”
Daniel moved with terrifying, predatory speed. The vulnerability he had shown Naomi moments ago vanished, replaced by the lethal instinct that had made him the most feared mafia boss in the Pacific Northwest. He lunged from the shadows, his heavy forearm slamming into the lead intruder’s throat with the force of a battering ram.
The man gasped, dropping his weapon as Daniel swept his legs out from under him, slamming his skull against the marble island.
The second operative pivoted, tracking Daniel’s movement. But Naomi, crawling through the acrid smoke, saw the muzzle of the gun pointing straight at Daniel’s chest.
Without thinking, she lunged sideways, slamming her body against the second intruder’s knees. The man stumbled, his burst of gunfire chewing harmlessly into the ceiling drywall. Daniel didn't hesitate; he closed the distance, grabbed the operative’s tactical vest, and threw him through the glass wall overlooking Elliott Bay.
The sound of shattering glass was swallowed by a fresh crack of thunder.
Silence descended on the penthouse, save for the hiss of the sprinkler system kicking in overhead, drenching them in freezing water.
Daniel spun around, his chest heaving, his face splattered with blood. He dropped to his knees beside Naomi, grabbing her shoulders. “Are you hit? Naomi, talk to me. Are you hurt?”
Naomi coughed, wiping soot from her face. She looked down at her hands—they were trembling, not from fear, but from the sudden, surging adrenaline of survival. She looked up at Daniel. The man who had lied to her. The man who had manipulated her. And yet, the man who had just risked his life to keep her from being abducted.
“I’m... I’m fine,” she gasped, pulling away from his grip. She stood up on shaking legs. “Who were they, Daniel? You said Vance was downstairs. Those weren’t Bratva. Those were professionals.”
Daniel stood slowly, wiping rain and glass from his shoulders. His dark eyes were filled with a dark, terrifying realization. “They weren't Vance’s men. They were corporate security. Private contractors.”
“From where?”
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“Crescent Harbor Logistics,” Daniel whispered, his voice dropping to a deadly register. “Someone inside my own company is trying to usurp me. And they’re using you to break me.”
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