Chapter 6 - The Coup
“Don't bother reaching for your gun, Victor,” Elias Vance warned, keeping his rifle perfectly steady.
“The guards outside have already been neutralized.”
Victor Kaine didn't flinch.
He remained seated in his leather armchair, calmly sipping his scotch.
“I should have known you were sleeping with her, Elias,” Victor said dryly, glancing at his sister.
“You always were ambitious.”
Isabella laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that echoed in the luxurious room.
“It’s not just about ambition, brother,” Isabella sneered, stepping further into the room.
“It’s about survival.”
“The Colombians offered us a fifty percent cut of the port traffic if we handed the syndicate over to them.”
“You refused to negotiate. You were going to start a war we couldn't win.”
Victor set his glass down on the side table.
“The Colombians don't honor treaties, Isabella.”
“They will use you to consolidate power, and then they will cut your throat.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Isabella replied coldly.
She turned her gaze to Clara, who was standing frozen near the medical cart.
“And who is this?” Isabella asked, feigning ignorance.
“The little nurse who ruined my ambush?”
Elias tightened his grip on the rifle.
“She stitched him up in the Narrows.”
“She’s a loose end.”
Isabella waved her hand dismissively.
“Kill her first.”
“Let Victor watch.”
Elias shifted his aim, pointing the barrel of the assault rifle directly at Clara’s heart.
Clara’s mind went entirely blank.
She was going to die in a billionaire’s bedroom because she couldn't ignore a knock at her door.
Before Elias could pull the trigger, Victor Kaine moved with a speed that was physically impossible for a man with a freshly sutured, massive abdominal wound.
He grabbed the heavy crystal scotch decanter from the side table and hurled it directly at Elias’s face.
The heavy glass shattered against Elias’s skull with a sickening crunch.
Elias staggered backward, firing a wild burst of bullets into the ceiling.
Victor didn't stop.
He lunged forward, ignoring the agonizing tear in his stitches, and tackled Elias to the floor.
He ripped the assault rifle from Elias’s hands and drove the butt of the weapon brutally into the enforcer's jaw, knocking him completely unconscious.
Isabella screamed in terror and turned to run out the open doors.
Victor raised the rifle, aiming at his sister’s back.
Clara saw his finger tighten on the trigger.
“Victor, no!” Clara shouted, grabbing his arm.
“She’s your sister!”
Victor hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes wild with adrenaline and betrayal.
In that momentary pause, Isabella sprinted into the hallway and disappeared into the sprawling estate.
Victor lowered the rifle, panting heavily.
A dark red stain began to bloom rapidly across the front of his crisp white shirt.
He had torn the internal stitches.
He collapsed to his knees, dropping the weapon.
“Clara,” Victor gasped, clutching his side.
“We have to move.”
“Isabella will send the rest of her loyal guards to finish the job.”
Clara rushed to his side, throwing his arm over her shoulder and hauling him to his feet.
“Where are we going?” Clara panicked, supporting his massive weight as they stumbled out of the bedroom.
“The garage,” Victor grunted, blood dripping onto the plush carpets.
“There’s a secure vehicle.”
They moved slowly down the back servant stairwell, avoiding the main corridors where shouts and gunfire were beginning to echo.
Isabella’s coup had triggered a civil war inside the estate.
They reached the subterranean garage, a massive concrete bunker filled with luxury cars.
Victor pointed a shaking finger toward a matte black, heavily armored SUV parked in the far corner.
“The keys are in the ignition,” Victor wheezed.
They reached the vehicle just as a squad of Isabella’s guards burst into the garage.
“There he is!” a guard shouted, raising a submachine gun.
Clara shoved Victor into the passenger seat and dove behind the steering wheel.
She slammed the heavy armored door shut just as a hail of bullets sparked off the bulletproof glass.
She threw the SUV into drive and floored the accelerator.
The massive vehicle roared to life, smashing through the lowered security gate and tearing out into the rainy night.
Clara drove wildly, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Where do I go, Victor?” Clara yelled over the sound of the roaring engine.
“We can't go to the hospitals; they’ll be watching!”
Victor slumped against the window, his face completely pale, his shirt drenched in fresh blood.
He looked at her, his eyes struggling to stay open.
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“We go to the only place they won't look,” Victor whispered.
“Take me back to your apartment in the Narrows.”
