Chapter 11 - Shattered Glass
The air in my lungs turned to ice.
"What did you say?" I whispered, my heart plummeting into a bottomless abyss.
"Bellandi knew about the Drake Hotel months ago," Nathan sneered, his breath hot against my cheek. "He knew Adrian was tracking you. Bellandi needed to know if Moretti actually cared about you, or if you were just another piece of trash he discarded. My humiliation was the test, Claire! And Adrian failed it the second he kissed you in that aisle!"
"You sick, pathetic—"
Before I could finish, a deafening crack shattered the evening air.
*BANG.*
High above us, the massive stained-glass skylight of the grand ballroom exploded inward in a torrential rain of crystalline daggers. Screams erupted from hundreds of guests as panic engulfed the room like wildfire.
"Claire!"
Adrian’s roar cut through the chaos. I turned to see him bursting through the terrace doors, a silver semi-automatic pistol already drawn in his hand. Marco and six bodyguards moved in a protective wedge, returning fire toward the balconies above.
Nathan screamed, diving under a catering table as high-caliber rounds shredded the decorative plaster and sent marble statues crashing to the floor.
"Adrian!" I screamed, shielding my belly with both arms as shards of glass rained around me.
Adrian leaped across the terrace, slamming into me and wrapping his broad body entirely around mine to shield me from the falling glass and bullets. We hit the carpeted floor together, his heavy weight taking the brunt of the impact.
"I have you," he grunted, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his temple onto my shoulder. "I have you, baby. Stay down!"
"Bellandi set this up!" I gasped, clutching his lapels as the roar of automatic gunfire deafened us. "Nathan said Bellandi paid him—"
"I know," Adrian snarled, returning fire over his shoulder with lethal precision. A masked gunman on the mezzanine tumbled over the gilded railing, crashing dead onto the marble floor below.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entrance of the ballroom, shaking the chandeliers. The blast threw two of Adrian’s guards across the floor. Marco went down, clutching a bleeding shoulder.
Through the drifting smoke and falling dust, heavy combat boots echoed against the marble.
A dozen heavily armored mercenaries advanced into the ruined ballroom, assault rifles raised. Leading them was a tall, silver-haired man in a white suit, holding a customized assault rifle. Salvatore Bellandi.
Adrian moved to raise his weapon, but a mercenary charged from the side, tackling Adrian violently into a marble pillar. His gun skittered across the polished floor, stopping feet away from where I lay curled against the wall.
"Adrian!" I screamed, trying to crawl toward him.
"Stay back, Claire!" Adrian roared, landing a brutal punch that shattered his attacker's jaw, but two more men rushed him, pinning Chicago's most feared boss to the ground under heavy rifle butts.
Salvatore Bellandi walked slowly toward me, stepping over the broken glass and bloodstained tablecloths.
He didn't look at Adrian. His cold, dead eyes locked entirely onto my swollen belly.
May you like
He raised his rifle, and a bright red laser dot appeared on the emerald velvet of my dress—resting dead-center over my unborn child.
"Pity," Bellandi smiled, resting his finger on the trigger. "The Moretti bloodline ends tonight."
