Chapter 4 - Blood on the HearthThe heavy oak doors splintered into fragments as four men dressed in black tactical gear burst into the dining room, holding submachine guns.
They weren't Viktor Saran’s men. They weren't Jin’s men.
“NOBODY MOVE!” one of the shooters screamed, spraying a burst of bullets into the high timber ceiling. Plaster and wooden splinters rained down on the long walnut tables.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Viktor Saran’s men scrambled for cover behind the tables. Jin instinctively stood up, throwing his body in front of Samuel Park, but his hands were completely empty—his weapons were checked at the front door.
“Who the hell are they?!” Minho shouted, ducking behind a heavy leather chair.
“Mercenaries!” Samuel hissed. “Rival syndicate out of Detroit—they’ve been trying to break into Chicago for months!”
The lead mercenary leveled his submachine gun directly at Jin’s chest. “Jin Ryu! Your uncle wiped out our crew ten years ago! Tonight, we take your head and take this city!”
Jin braced himself. He had no gun, no cover, and three automatic weapons pointed at his heart.
In that fraction of a second, Jin saw Beatrice move.
She didn't scream. She didn't flinch. She didn't look like a socialite.
With terrifying, fluid speed, Betty reached under her silk burgundy blouse and pulled a silver-plated 9mm pistol from a hidden shoulder holster—a weapon she had kept concealed despite her own strict "no weapons" rule.
THWIP. THWIP.
Two suppressed gunshots echoed through the high-ceilinged room.
The lead mercenary’s eyes went wide. Two red holes appeared in the center of his tactical vest—hitting his body armor, but the kinetic impact knocked him backward off his feet.
Before the second mercenary could pivot his weapon toward her, Betty vaulted over a side table with breathtaking athletic grace. She landed cleanly on the hardwood floor, swept the mercenary’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, grabbed his submachine gun, and drove her elbow violently into his jaw.
CRACK.
The man dropped like a sack of bricks.
The third shooter turned, panicked, pointing his weapon directly at Betty’s head. “YOU BITCH—!”
Jin didn't think. He didn't weigh the odds. He sprinted across the room, grabbed a heavy iron fireplace poker from the hearth, and slammed it across the shooter’s arm with all his strength.
The submachine gun flew from the man’s grip. Jin grabbed the mercenary by his tactical collar and smashed his head directly into the brick hearth pillar, dropping him unconscious to the floor.
Outside, the heavy sound of professional security taking down the remaining hit team echoed from the alleyway. Within thirty seconds, Marcus and eight Hearth security guards burst through the side doors, weapons drawn, securing the perimeter.
“Room secure!” Marcus shouted. “All perimeter breaches eliminated!”
The dining room fell into a dead, terrified silence.
The mercenaries lay disarmed and unconscious on the floor. Viktor Saran was cowering under a table; Jin’s men were catching their breath; and Jin stood near the fireplace, holding a blood-stained iron poker, chest heaving.
In the center of the room stood Betty.
Her silk blouse was slightly rumpled. One dark curl had fallen loose across her forehead. She was holding a suppressed pistol in one hand and a captured submachine gun in the other, standing over two fallen men like a dark queen.
She looked at Marcus. Her eyes were burning with absolute fury.
“Marcus,” she said, her voice quiet, low, and deadlier than any bullet.
“Yes, Mama?” Marcus said, stepping forward with his head bowed, sweating profusely.
“There is blood on my floor.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “I... I apologize, Mama. They used a commercial cutter on the rear kitchen security doors. It was a blind spot in the secondary perimeter.”
“Clean it up,” Betty commanded, clicking the safety on her pistol and sliding it back under her arm. “Take these men to the basement. Find out who financed them. And make sure Viktor Saran leaves through the front door safely.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Betty turned slowly toward Jin.
Jin was staring at her, his hands still holding the iron poker. He looked at the gun in her hand, then at the unconscious mercenary at her feet, then into her sharp, brilliant dark eyes.
“You...” Jin breathed, his mind completely blown open. “You took down two armed mercenaries in four seconds.”
Betty walked toward him, her leather heels clicking sharply against the wood floor. She reached out, took the iron poker gently from his hand, and set it back in its brass stand.
May you like
Then, she pulled a silk handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped a speck of soot off Jin’s cheek.
“I told you this morning, Jin,” she said, her Southern accent returning in a soft, teasing whisper. “I know how to take care of myself.”
