Chapter 13
The transition from the blood-soaked dining room to the secure east wing panic room was a journey from hell into a highly fortified sanctuary. Ethan walked down the quiet, carpeted corridors, shedding his suit jacket and unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. The artistic, negative-space tattoos on his chest and neck were visible, projecting an aura of raw, terrifying power.
He pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner. The heavy steel door hissed open, revealing a softly lit, secure suite.
Claire was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, wrapped in a thick, warm blanket. She was holding a cup of hot tea, her hands still trembling slightly, but her eyes were bright and clear. Lucy stood faithfully beside her, keeping watch.
When the door opened, Claire looked up. The terror of the past months melted away entirely at the sight of her husband standing in the doorway, unharmed and victorious.
"Ethan," Claire breathed, setting the tea down and standing up on shaky legs.
"The estate is secure," Ethan murmured, crossing the room in three massive strides. He caught her before she could fall, pulling her frail body securely against his broad chest. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, the cold, sociopathic monster completely surrendering to the man who loved her.
"They are gone?" Claire whispered, clinging to his shirt.
"The Moretti syndicate... is burning," Ethan promised softly, kissing her temple. "And Vanessa will never see the sun again."
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He looked over Claire's shoulder at Lucy. The beautiful maid stood respectfully near the door, her heart-shaped face pale but resolute. "You protected her, Lucy," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a register of profound gratitude. "You saved my family."
"I only did what was right, Mr. Blackwell," Lucy replied softly, bowing her head.
