Chapter 2 - Fever and Steel
The service corridor led directly to the staff quarters, a quiet wing of the mansion that my father had built decades ago for the servants who maintained the forty-room estate.
I moved through the darkness like a ghost, stepping over copper pipes and around old laundry carts. The earpiece in my ear continued to chatter with updates from Marco’s men. There were eight traitors inside the house and six more stationed around the outer gates. They were professional, methodical, and completely oblivious to the fact that the predator they were hunting was already behind their lines.
I reached the door of room 104—the housekeeper's quarters.
Elena Williams had worked for my family for four years. She was a quiet, soft-spoken woman who had come to us after her husband died in a dockside accident. She was the one who kept the estate running while I was away at war, never complaining, never asking for more than the wage she earned to support her daughter.
The door handle was locked from the inside.
I tapped three times on the wood—our family’s old code for an emergency clear.
Inside, a soft gasp sounded, followed by the slow, painful scraping of a chair against the floorboards. The lock clicked, and the door opened an inch.
Elena stood there, clutching a heavy brass candlestick. Her face was flushed dark red, her eyes glassy with a dangerously high fever. She could barely stand; her knees were buckling under her weight, and sweat soaked the collar of her worn nightgown.
"Mr... Mr. Romano?" she gasped, her voice raspy and dry. "My God... you're early. The... the shoes..."
I pushed the door open, caught her before she hit the floor, and lifted her onto the narrow bed.
"Save your breath, Elena," I said, checking her pulse. It was racing, hot and thready. Advanced pneumonia. "Where is the medicine?"
"In... in the cabinet..." she wheezed, her hand feebly reaching toward my coat. "Zoe... where is Zoe? She went... she ran away while I was asleep..."
"Zoe is safe," I said, pulling a blanket over her shoulders. "She's hiding in the shoe-shine room. She tried to polish my Oxfords so you wouldn't lose your job."
Tears trickled down Elena's burning cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the dust on her skin. "I'm sorry, sir... I told her... I told her we couldn't fail you. People who fail the Romanos... they disappear..."
Her words hit me like a physical blow.
This woman, burning alive with fever, had been so terrified of my reputation that she had let her six-year-old child believe our house was a place of terror where a ruined shoe meant eviction or death. I had built a kingdom of fear to keep my enemies at bay, but in doing so, I had poisoned the very air my own household breathed.
"No one is disappearing, Elena," I said softly, setting a cold wet towel on her forehead. "You have served this house faithfully. Rest now."
"Marco..." she whispered, her eyes widening with sudden panic. "Marco came into my room... two hours ago. He was looking for... for your vault key. He thought I was asleep. I heard him on his phone... talking about the Moretti family in New York..."
"I know," I said. "Zoe drew me a picture."
Before Elena could respond, footsteps rattled the hallway outside.
"Team Two," a voice barked through my stolen earpiece. "The housekeeper's door is unlocked. Move in and search her."
I stepped behind the heavy oak wardrobe just as two armed men kicked the door wide open, their tactical flashlights slicing through the dark room.
"Get up, lady," the first guard sneered, pointing a suppressed pistol at Elena. "Where did Kane hide the encryption key for the vault?"
Elena didn't answer; she couldn't. She was drifting into unconsciousness from the fever.
"Answer him, bitch, or I shoot—"
I moved out from behind the wardrobe.
Before the guard could finish his threat, I grabbed his wrist, twisting it outward until the bone snapped with a sickening crack. The gun fell into my waiting left hand. I brought the barrel up under his chin and pulled the trigger once—a quiet ptht echoing in the small room.
The second guard swung his rifle toward me, but I slammed my shoulder into his chest, pinning him against the doorframe. I drove the heel of my boot into his knee, shattering the joint, and followed with a crushing blow to his windpipe. He fell to his knees, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
I stepped over their bodies, pulled the door shut, and locked it from the outside to protect Elena.
"Nikolai," I whispered into the stolen radio, switching to my private security channel.
Forty miles away, on the interstate, my second-in-command answered instantly. "Boss? We just lost your signal. Is everything okay?"
"Turn the convoy around," I commanded cold steel. "Marco has turned. He’s inside the house with fourteen men. Secure the perimeter gates from the outside. No one leaves this estate alive."
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"Understood, Boss. ETA twelve minutes."
"Make it ten," I said. "I have a child to protect."
