Chapter 5 - The Wolf AwakensVance leveled the pistol directly at the space between Elena’s eyes.
He never got the chance to pull the trigger.
From the bed, Dominic didn't hesitate. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't act like a man who had lost the use of his lower limbs.
With the explosive, terrifying speed of a wounded predator, Dominic lunged forward, throwing his entire two-hundred-pound upper body off the mattress, grabbing the heavy, solid-brass reading lamp from the nightstand by its cord, and whipping it through the air like a flail.
The heavy brass base struck Vance directly across the side of his skull with a sickening CRACK.
Vance let out a bloody spray, his eyes rolling back as he stumbled backward into the doorframe, dropping the suppressed pistol onto the hardwood floor.
"Elena! The gun!" Dominic roared, falling heavily onto the rug beside the bed, his strong arms dragging his weight forward without a second's delay.
Elena didn't freeze. She dove across the floor like a sprinter off the blocks, her knees sliding across the polished oak, her hand clamping over the warm steel grip of the suppressed pistol just as Vance reached down with his remaining fingers to grab it.
Elena didn't hesitate. She didn't cry. She raised the weapon and pulled the trigger twice.
Pfft. Pfft.
The two suppressed rounds struck Vance squarely in the right shoulder and thigh. The heavy man let out a agonizing howl, collapsing onto his back like a felled oak tree, clutching his spurting leg, entirely incapacitated.
Julian spun around in absolute horror, his face draining of all color as he saw Vance bleeding on the floor—and Elena Hart standing over him, holding a heavy semi-automatic firearm with the cold, practiced grip of someone who knew exactly how to use it.
"Drop the briefcase, Julian," Elena said, her voice dropping into a register so cold, so lethal, that even Dominic paused on the floor to look up at her.
Julian’s hands began to shake violently. The leather briefcase slipped from his numb fingers, thudding heavily against the floor, spilling hundreds of thousands of dollars in bearer bonds across the blood-stained rug.
"Claire... please..." Julian stammered, stepping back until his spine hit the wall, his hands flying into the air. "It was Vance! He planned it! He forced me—"
"Shut your mouth, Julian," Dominic growled from the floor.
Dominic used his massive arms to pull himself up against the side of the bed frame, sitting upright, his chest heaving, his gray eyes fixed on his younger brother with a look of such absolute, terrifying finality that Julian began to weep open tears of pure terror.
"You thought I was weak because my legs didn't work," Dominic said softly, reaching out his hand toward Elena.
Without a word, Elena stepped over Vance’s groaning body and handed the pistol to Dominic.
Dominic took the weapon, resting it casually across his lap, his dark gaze pinned to his brother's face.
"A wolf doesn't hunt with his feet, Julian," Dominic whispered, his voice vibrating through the silent room like a funeral bell. "He hunts with his mind. And he knows who belongs to his pack."
He looked over at Elena, a faint, fierce pride lighting up his eyes.
"Call Marco," Dominic commanded softly.
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Elena blinked. "Who is Marco?"
"My real head of security," Dominic said, a cold smile touching his lips. "The man I sent to Miami eight months ago to keep him safe while I figured out who the snake in my house was. Tell him to bring three trucks to the main gate. It's time we cleaned out the estate."
