Chapter 3 - The Blood on the Marble
Emily didn't hesitate.
With her left arm now completely free from the headboard, she reached blindly to her right, her fingers closing around the largest, sharpest jagged shard of the heavy crystal bourbon tumbler that Victoria had smashed onto the floor moments earlier.
Without letting out a sound, she swung her arm with every ounce of strength remaining in her exhausted, battered body.
The razor-sharp edge of the crystal slashed directly across the back of Marcus’s left ankle, cutting deeply through his Achilles tendon.
Marcus let out a guttural, strangled shriek of pain as his leg buckled beneath him. His body collapsed forward, his weight shifting violently to the right.
THWACK.
The suppressed 9mm discharged, the silenced gunshot sounding like a heavy whip cracking through the room. The bullet tore through the fabric of my suit jacket, grazing my ribs with a line of blinding, searing heat before embedding itself deep into the mahogany Changing table behind me.
I didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline surged through my blood like liquid fire.
Before Marcus could recover his balance or re-aim the weapon, I lunged forward. I dropped my full body weight—two hundred pounds of athletic frame—directly onto his shoulders. We hit the hardwood floor with a deafening crash that shook the nursery walls.
"Julian!" Victoria screamed, her voice cracking into high-pitched panic.
I slammed my right elbow directly into Marcus’s jaw. Bone crunched beneath the impact, sending a shockwave up my arm. Marcus groaned, his grip on the gun loosening, but his combat training kicked in instinctively. He reached up with his left hand, his thumb gouging violently toward my left eye socket.
Pain exploded across my vision. White flashes danced before my eyes as I fought to keep him from blinding me. I grabbed his wrist with both hands, twisting it with all my strength, slamming his hand repeatedly against the hard floor.
BANG.
The gun discharged a second time into the ceiling, raining plaster and dust down upon us like white snow.
"Kill him, Marcus! Kill him!" Victoria was shrieking from the corner, scrambling backward toward the door, her hands clutching her emerald dress, completely stripped of her ice-cold arrogance.
Marcus growled, his face covered in sweat and blood from his broken jaw, his severed Achilles tendon making his lower right leg completely useless. He managed to force his body upward, pinning me against the base of the changing table, his large hands shifting from the gun to wrapping securely around my throat.
The air was instantly cut off.
My lungs burned. The edges of my vision began to turn dark and spotty. I clawed at his thick, leather-clad wrists, but his grip was like a steel vise. The weight of his muscular frame pressed down on my chest, crushing the breath out of me.
Through the darkening haze of my fading consciousness, I saw Victoria moving toward the door. She reached into her handbag, pulling out her car keys, ready to leave Marcus to finish the job while she fled the estate.
"No... you... don't..." I choked out, but no sound came out of my compressed windpipe.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed over us.
It was Emily.
She had managed to slip her right hand out of the loosened harness, leaving the twins safely cradled in the soft, deep pocket of the duvet on the center of the bed. Her pale blue uniform was drenched in blood, her split lip dripping crimson onto her collar, but her eyes were burning with a terrifying, primal fury.
In her hands, she held the solid brass floor lamp from the corner of the nursery—a thirty-pound piece of solid metal decoration.
She raised it high above her head.
"Get off him!" Emily screamed.
She brought the heavy brass base down with absolute, terrifying force directly onto the side of Marcus’s head.
The sound was a dull, sickening CRACK.
Marcus’s eyes rolled back into his head instantly. His grip on my neck vanished as his body went completely limp, collapsing across my legs like a sack of wet concrete.
I gasped violently, cold air rushing back into my burning lungs. I rolled Marcus’s heavy form off my body, coughing raggedly, my hands clutching my bruised throat as I pulled myself up against the wall.
Across the room, standing at the open doorway, Victoria froze.
Her hand was on the doorframe. Her eyes were wide, dilated with total, unadulterated terror as she looked from Marcus’s unconscious, bleeding body on the floor, to Emily standing tall with the brass lamp, to me pulling myself up to my feet.
The illusion of her control was completely shattered. The sociopathic mastermind had been reduced to a cornered animal.
"Julian..." Victoria stammered, her voice trembling, her hands shaking so hard she dropped her car keys onto the floor. "Julian, baby... please. He forced me to do this. Marcus threatened to kill me and the babies if I didn't help him... you know I love you, Julian... please..."
She took a slow step backward into the hallway, her hands raised in a pleading gesture.
I looked down at the suppressed 9mm handgun lying on the floor three inches from Marcus’s limp fingers.
I picked it up.
I didn't point it at her. I didn't need to. I held it at my side, my dark eyes fixed on her pale, sweating face as I took three slow, heavy steps toward the doorway.
"Run, Victoria," I said, my voice raspy and deep from my bruised vocal cords. "Run as fast as your heels will carry you. Because if you are still on this property when the police arrive, I won't need a gun to ruin you."
Victoria looked at me. She looked at the gun. She looked at Emily, who was already dropping the lamp and rushing back to the bed to gather my weeping twins into her arms.
May you like
Then, Victoria turned and ran.
The sound of her heels clicking frantic, uneven rhythms down the marble hallway echoed through the empty house, fading away into the dark, quiet night.
