Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps Shut
The ""real danger"" was Marco Moretti—Adrian’s estranged cousin, a volatile sociopath who had spent three years exiled in Europe following an attempted coup within the syndicate.
Marco had arrived late, surrounded by a crew of younger, reckless enforcers. He was leaner than Adrian, with a scar running across his sneering mouth and a manic gleam in his dark eyes that screamed unmedicated ambition.
While Adrian was called away to a private study for closed-door discussions with the port authorities, I was left near the terrace doors, flanked by Adrian’s most trusted lieutenant, Dante.
""You need fresh air, Miss Bellamy?"" Dante asked politely, keeping his scanning eyes locked on the ballroom perimeter.
""Just five minutes,"" I murmured, my head spinning from the champagne, the tension, and the heavy perfume suffocating the ballroom. ""Just a few breaths.""
I stepped out onto the wide stone balcony overlooking the crashing ocean below. The cool salt breeze was a blessed relief against my flushed skin. I gripped the marble balustrade, closing my eyes, trying to ground myself.
You're Mara Bellamy, I reminded myself. You're doing this for Leo. Keep your head down. Don't fall for the monster with the pretty words.
""So, you're the fat stray my cousin picked up off the street.""
A sneering voice shattered the quiet.
I spun around. Marco Moretti stood leaning against the terrace archway, an unlit cigarette dangling from his scarred lips. Two of his men had blocked the entrance to the ballroom, subtly crowding Dante into a corner out of sight behind the heavy velvet drapes.
My stomach seized, but I forced my chin up. ""You must be Marco. Adrian warned me that the bitter dogs who couldn't lead always bark the loudest.""
Marco’s smirk vanished, replaced by an ugly, twitching rage. He stepped toward me, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat. ""You have a sharp tongue for a low-class pig in an expensive dress. Do you really think Adrian cares about you? You're a prop. A meat shield to make him look respectable until the council ratifies his contracts.""
""Even if that were true,"" I replied, refusing to back down toward the balcony edge, ""he chose me. He sent you away to rot in Spain like an embarrassing mistake.""
Marco moved with terrifying speed. Before I could scream, his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around my throat, slamming my back hard against the cold stone railing. The sheer force knocked the air from my lungs in a sickening gasp.
""You don't talk to me like that, you worthless bitch,"" Marco snarled into my face, his breath reeking of cocaine and cheap peppermint. ""Adrian thinks he’s invincible. He thinks this little merger makes him untouchable. But let's see how steady his hands are when I send him your head in a delivery box.""
Behind him, I saw Dante lunging forward, but one of Marco's thugs cracked a heavy brass-knuckled fist across Dante's temple, sending the bodyguard crashing onto the flagstones.
Panic roared in my ears. The drop behind me was fifty feet onto jagged ocean rocks. Marco’s fingers were crushing my windpipe, cutting off my oxygen, my vision swimming with black spots.
No.
I had spent my entire life taking hits from cruel people. I had swallowed insults from classmates, landlords, abusive customers, and condescending bosses. I had let the world treat me like garbage because I was too tired, too poor, too broken to fight back.
Not tonight.
With all the strength in my body, I raised my right foot—clad in a heavy, spiked satin stiletto—and drove the heel down directly into Marco’s knee with bone-shattering force.
A sickening crunch echoed above the roar of the surf.
Marco screamed in agony, his grip on my neck releasing instantly as his knee buckled under him. As he stumbled forward, grasping his ruined joint, I swung my heavy, diamond-encrusted designer clutch like a mace, smashing it directly across the bridge of his nose.
Cartilage cracked. Blood sprayed across the marble balustrade.
""Touch me again,"" I gasped, clutching my bruised throat, coughing violently as I backed away, ""and I swear to God I will throw you over this railing myself!""
May you like
Marco lay on the stone, clutching his bloody face, his eyes wide with shocked disbelief.
Then, the terrace French doors were blown completely off their hinges.
