Chapter 6 - Blood on the Marble
Eleanor bit down hard on the leather glove. The assailant cursed under his breath, loosening his grip for a split second. Using the street-fighting instincts forged in tough foster homes, she drove her sharp elbow back into his solar plexus and threw her weight forward, tumbling out onto the open carpet.
""Help!"" she screamed at the top of her lungs. ""Alessandro!""
The intruder lunged forward—a tall man dressed in black tactical gear, a combat knife gleaming in the moonlight. He wasn't Marco; he was a hired gun, a professional sent to finish the job cleanly in the shadows. He swung the blade, slashing through the sleeve of her silk robe, drawing a thin line of burning red across her forearm.
Eleanor grabbed a heavy brass globe from a side table and smashed it across his helmeted face. The impact staggered him, but he recovered instantly, grabbing her by her hair and slamming her against the mahogany desk. The air left her lungs in a violent rush. The silver locket tore from her neck, clattering across the floor.
The assassin raised the blade high, his eyes dead and unblinking.
BANG.
The gunshot was deafening inside the enclosed room. The assassin’s body stiffened, a dark hole blossoming in the center of his chest. He collapsed heavily to the side, knocking over a stack of leather-bound books before lying completely still.
Eleanor scrambled backward, gasping for air, her back pressed against the desk.
Alessandro stood in the doorway, a smoking Beretta gripped in his right hand. He was barefoot, wearing only dark trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt, his chest heaving with fury. Behind him, armed guards swarmed the corridor.
He didn't look at the dead man on the floor. He dropped his weapon onto a chair and crossed the room in two strides, falling to his knees before Eleanor.
""Are you hit?"" his voice shook with a raw, unvarnished panic he had never displayed before. His hands grasped her trembling shoulders, checking her frantically. ""Eleanor! Look at me. Did he cut you deep?""
""My arm,"" she whispered, her teeth chattering from pure shock. ""Just... my arm.""
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Alessandro saw the blood seeping through her sleeve. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle looked like corded steel. He reached over, picked up the weeping willow locket from the floor, and pressed it back into her trembling palm before pulling her violently against his chest.
""You're safe,"" he breathed into her hair, holding her tight while his entire estate mobilized into a war zone outside. ""I swear to you on my father’s soul, he will pay for every drop of your blood.""
