Chester’s shoulders slumped as the initial wave of emotion subsided. His gaze drifted downward, coming to rest on his chest where crimson bloomed across his shirt. Blood seeped through the fabric in a steady stream, darkening the material with each passing second.
The bullet had torn through him from behind, explaining the peculiar pattern of blood now spreading across his torso like spilled wine on parchment.
Disbelief clouded Chester’s eyes as he turned his head with excruciating slowness. The sight that greeted him sent ice through his veins—Fiona charging toward him, her face contorted with rage, a pistol clutched in her white-knuckled grip. There could be no mistake. Fiona had fired the shot that now threatened to drain the life from his body.
A phalanx of bodyguards followed in her wake, their expressions stone-cold and professional. They had come ready for war.
In that heartbeat of realization, Katelyn’s men exploded into action. With practiced precision, they drew their weapons and unleashed a hail of bullets upon Fiona’s entourage.
These weren’t ordinary guards but elite warriors, personally molded under Vincent’s exacting standards. Whether in hand-to-hand combat or with firearms, their skills were top-tier. In the blink of an eye, Fiona’s bodyguards crumpled to the ground like marionettes with severed strings.
Fiona turned, only to find that all her men were dead. Terror flickered across her features like lightning in a storm. She instinctively retreated a step before freezing in place, suddenly aware of the constellation of gun barrels trained on her skull.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Katelyn’s voice cut through the air like a blade of ice. “Unless you fancy becoming a human colander.”
At that moment, Fiona didn’t dare to move a muscle. She had arrived brimming with confidence, certain her armed escorts would be sufficient to dispatch Katelyn and claim vengeance for the Robles family. Now, in less time than it took to draw a breath, Katelyn had decimated her entire security detail.
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A violent shudder ran through Fiona’s body as dread rooted itself deep in her core. Just how powerful was this woman?
With nothing more than a subtle nod from Katelyn, her subordinates moved with the synchronicity of wolves in a pack, descending upon Fiona. They seized her with…
Rough hands dragged her toward the dilapidated warehouse that loomed in the distance.
Still enveloped in a fog of fear, Fiona’s attention snagged on a hunched figure kneeling nearby. Her eyes widened with shock. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
The revelation struck her like a physical blow. She had dismissed Katelyn’s words as deception, a carefully crafted lure. The truth now stared back at her through her father’s pain-filled eyes.
Before Chester could form a response, Fiona’s gaze dropped to the crimson stain spreading across his chest—a macabre flower unfurling its petals in the dying light.
.
.
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