Chapter 7 - The Unmasking of a Viper
Before Vincent could reply, the violent roar of an engine echoed down the dirt road.
A battered rental sedan burst through the tree line, its tires skidding across the slick wet mud before crashing into the rear bumper of Vincent’s SUV with a sickening crunch of metal.
Marco drew his firearm instantly. "Boss, get down!"
The driver's door of the rental car was kicked open. Isabella stumbled out into the torrential rain, her blonde hair matted and wild, her mascara smeared down her gaunt cheeks, clutching the silver revolver in two shaking hands.
"You ruined me!" Isabella screamed, her voice shrill and unhinged, pointing the gun wildly between Vincent and Claire. "You both ruined me!"
Claire’s eyes widened, her body going rigid on the porch.
Vincent was on his feet in a fraction of a second. The broken, weeping man vanished; in an instant, the cold, lethal predator of the Las Vegas underground surged to the surface. He stepped directly between Isabella and the porch stairs, completely shielding Claire with his wide body.
"Isabella," Vincent commanded, his voice dead and terrifyingly calm. "Put the gun down."
"Why?!" she shrieked, rain plastering her silk blouse to her trembling frame. "You gave her everything! She was never good enough for you! She was boring! She didn't know how to shine in your world! I was the one who belonged by your side! And you threw me into the dirt for her!"
"You tried to murder my wife," Vincent said, stepping down the stairs, closing the distance toward the barrel of the weapon. "You fed her poison knowing she was allergic. You are a disgusting, pathetic coward."
"Don't come any closer!" Isabella shrieked, cocking the hammer. "I’ll kill her! If I can't have your life, she won't have it either!"
She shifted the barrel toward the porch, aiming straight at Claire’s chest.
"No!" Vincent roared.
In a split second, Vincent lunged forward, throwing his entire weight across the space.
BANG.
The gunshot cracked through the forest like thunder.
Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
Vincent didn't stop. Despite the impact, his momentum slammed Isabella into the muddy ground. With brutal precision, his hand clamped down on her wrist, twisting until the bone snapped with a sickening pop. The gun fell into the mud. Marco was on her an instant later, pinning Isabella’s arms behind her back with zip-ties as she wailed in agony.
Vincent stood up slowly, breathing heavily. He looked up at Claire on the porch, offering a weak, trembling smile.
"You're safe," he whispered.
May you like
Then, his knees buckled.
He collapsed forward onto the wooden steps, dark crimson blood spreading rapidly across the white fabric of his dress shirt, soaking through the wool of his coat.
