Chapter 4 - The Broken Engagement
The lead mercenary stepped forward, his weapon rising toward Mara’s chest.
Before he could squeeze the trigger, Adrian Bellamy threw himself between the gun barrel and the woman in gray.
“DON'T!” Adrian roared, his tuxedo jacket flaring as he shielded Mara with his own body. “Father, if your men fire a single round, I swear to God I will walk into the federal prosecutor’s office myself!”
“Adrian, get out of the way!” Celeste screamed from behind them. She reached forward, her manicured nails digging into Adrian’s arm, trying desperately to yank him back. “Are you insane? You're defending a nobody over your own family? Over *us*?”
Adrian turned his head, looking down at his bride-to-be with pure, unvarnished disgust.
“You don't care, do you?” Adrian asked softly. “Celeste, your father’s investment firm bought the municipal bonds for that development project forty-eight hours *before* the fire started. Don't look at me like you’re innocent. Your diamonds were bought with blood.”
Celeste froze, her face draining of color. She looked from Adrian to Julian, waiting for a denial, waiting for Julian to laugh it off as the ramblings of an unhinged son.
Julian didn't laugh.
“You’re soft, Adrian,” Julian said, stepping down from the raised platform, his polished leather shoes striking the floor with cold, measured beats. “I built this empire so you could inherit a throne. You think real estate in this city is acquired through polite handshakes? Mercer House was an eyesore. A haven for gutter trash that held back billions in municipal growth.”
“They were children!” Adrian choked out.
“They were leverage,” Julian corrected coldly. He raised a single finger toward the head of security. “Restrain my son. If he resists, break his shoulder. He’ll heal before the wedding.”
Two mercenaries surged forward. One lunged for Adrian, heavy combat gloves reaching to subdue him.
They never reached him.
Mara moved with blinding, explosive violence. She stepped inside the guard’s guard, her elbow driving upward with devastating force into his chin, snapping his head back. Before the second guard could react, she seized the barrel of his carbine, twisted it violently outward to dislocate his thumb, and swept his legs out from under him. The man slammed onto the floor with a bone-jarring crash.
The envelope flew into the air. Mara caught it with her left hand, racked the charging handle of the captured submachine gun with her right, and brought the muzzle to bear directly on Julian Bellamy’s forehead.
May you like
“The next person who touches him dies,” Mara warned, her voice dropping into a register that sent chills through every guest in the room. “Now open the doors.”
***
