Chapter 4 - The Betrayal of Grace
I stepped in front of Clara and the children, shielding them from the explosive threat.
"Grace, put the detonator down," I commanded, my voice cutting through the heavy rain.
Grace shook her head violently, tears mixing with the storm on her cheeks.
"I can't, Mr. Duca, I am so sorry," she sobbed.
"Victoria's men took my husband yesterday afternoon."
"They told me if I didn't eliminate the baby tonight, they would send him back to me in pieces."
I kept my gun aimed at the ground, knowing a sudden movement could cause her to press the button.
"You love that baby, Grace," I said gently, trying to reason with her broken mind.
"You have raised her for fourteen months."
Grace let out a wretched wail of pure agony.
"I know, but Mia is my own flesh and blood!" she screamed.
"Victoria promised me that if I blew the tunnels, Mia would be spared."
I took a slow, calculated step forward onto the wet wooden planks.
"Victoria lied to you, Grace," I said firmly.
"Her men just tried to gas Mia to death inside my study."
Grace froze, her eyes darting over my shoulder to look at her terrified six-year-old daughter.
Mia peaked out from beneath the tactical blanket and whimpered her mother's name.
The sight of her child alive shattered the last of Grace's brainwashed resolve.
Her hand began to tremble, and she slowly lowered the detonator toward her side.
"I will find your husband, Grace, I swear on my life," I promised.
Grace let out a heavy sigh of relief and held the detonator out for me to take.
Suddenly, a bright red laser dot appeared directly in the center of Grace's forehead.
Before I could even shout a warning, the deafening crack of a sniper rifle echoed across the harbor.
The bullet shattered Grace's skull, dropping her instantly to the wooden dock.
Mia let out a blood-curdling scream of pure horror.
I dove forward, catching Grace's falling body before she could drop the active detonator.
I secured the trigger and dragged her lifeless form behind a stack of metal shipping crates.
The sniper fired twice more, the bullets ricocheting dangerously off the steel boxes above our heads.
I pressed my fingers against Grace's neck, but I already knew she was gone.
May you like
Her lips parted, and a final, breathless whisper escaped her dying lungs.
"The baby isn't yours, Roman."
