Chapter 8 - Night of the Wolves
The head of security, Marcus, held Norah tightly against his chest as a human shield.
He yelled at Vincent to drop his weapon immediately or he would blow the chef’s brains out.
Vincent slowly lowered his assault rifle, his dark eyes burning with unadulterated, lethal fury.
He kicked his weapon across the bloody marble floor to show he was completely unarmed.
Marcus laughed darkly, adjusting his tight grip around Norah’s violently trembling throat.
He gloated that the rival family had paid him five million dollars to finally finish this job.
He explained how he had poisoned the previous meals and planted the vial to frame the innocent maid.
Vincent took a slow, calculated step forward, speaking in a calm, hypnotic tone to distract the traitor.
He asked Marcus exactly how he planned to walk out of a house surrounded by loyal soldiers.
Marcus sneered and bragged that his backup team was already waiting at the extraction point.
He made the fatal mistake of looking toward the front door for just a fraction of a second.
Norah remembered the small bottle of heavy-duty ammonia cleaner she always carried in her apron pocket.
She slipped her hand down, grabbed the plastic bottle, and twisted the cap completely off.
She violently threw her head backward, smashing her skull directly into Marcus’s nose with a sickening crunch.
As the large man stumbled backward in sudden agony, Norah threw the pure ammonia directly into his eyes.
Marcus dropped his weapon instantly, screaming in sheer blinding pain as he clawed at his burning face.
Vincent lunged forward with terrifying speed, drawing a hidden combat knife from his boot.
He drove the blade deep into the traitor’s chest, permanently ending the violent threat in a single motion.
Norah collapsed onto her knees, gasping for fresh air as the adrenaline slowly left her exhausted body.
Vincent pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head while covered in his enemy's blood.
He promised her that the nightmare was finally and completely over for good.
Just as the words left his mouth, a slow, mocking applause echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
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The rival mafia boss stepped casually into the dim moonlight shining through the high windows.
He was holding a massive silver revolver pressed directly against the temple of Norah’s terrified brother.
