Chapter 2 - The Poisoned Cup
The heavy metallic click of Anthony's safety disengaging echoed loudly through the silent, opulent study.
Atlas instantly scrambled back to his massive paws, baring his razor-sharp teeth and emitting a terrifying, guttural growl aimed directly at the security chief.
"Call the dog off, Mara, or I swear I will shoot both of you right here," Anthony warned desperately.
I had absolutely no idea how to command a dog bred specifically for underground fighting, but I slowly lowered my hand toward his head.
"Atlas, please sit down," I whispered with a trembling, terrified voice.
To my absolute astonishment, the massive beast immediately dropped his hindquarters to the rug, though his dark eyes never once left Anthony's gun.
I knew with terrifying certainty that Damen Romano was actively dying from whatever toxin was currently shutting down his central nervous system.
"He needs immediate medical attention, Anthony, or he is going to be dead in less than five minutes," I pleaded frantically.
Anthony kept his heavy gun leveled directly at my chest, refusing to let me move even an inch toward the dying man.
"The estate doctor is already on his way, but you are not touching him again," Anthony spat with absolute venom.
I looked desperately at my heavy wooden cleaning cart, which was parked just a few feet away near the cedar bookshelves.
I knew for a fact that the medical grade hydrogen peroxide I used to clean the grout could successfully induce violent vomiting.
Without waiting for permission, I aggressively lunged toward the cart, ignoring Anthony's furious shout to freeze.
I grabbed the dark plastic bottle and a clean towel, rushing quickly back to Damen's convulsing, dying body.
"If you shoot me now, your boss absolutely dies, so let me save his life," I yelled, forcefully tilting Damen's head backward.
I poured a small, measured amount of the harsh liquid directly into his mouth, massaging his throat to force the swallowing reflex.
Ten agonizing seconds passed in complete, suffocating silence before Damen violently gagged.
He rolled aggressively onto his side, coughing up massive amounts of dark, toxic fluid onto the pristine Persian rug.
His breathing immediately became less ragged, and the terrifying blue tint began to slowly fade from his pale lips.
Anthony lowered his gun slightly, staring at me with a deep, conflicted mixture of intense suspicion and profound relief.
He slowly walked over to my cleaning cart to inspect the remaining bottles I had left behind.
He reached his large hand into the front pocket of my canvas apron hanging on the cart's handle.
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Anthony pulled out a small, completely empty glass vial bearing a highly restricted chemical warning label.
"You really expect me to believe you saved his life when you were the one who brought the poison in here?" Anthony asked coldly.
