Chapter 5 - THE THIRD FLOOR
By three in the afternoon, rain was hammering against the leaded glass windows of the estate in heavy, relentless sheets. The sky had turned a dark, bruising shade of purple, and the wind off the harbor howled through the stone chimneys like a dying animal.
Marcus had arrived forty minutes earlier in a blacked-out SUV driven by Leo. He was currently upstairs in the gatehouse bedroom, wide-eyed, completely overwhelmed, and ravenously eating a plate of hot pasta Nonna had sent over.
I was back in the main mansion, carrying a tray of fresh medical dressing, antiseptic solution, and surgical scissors. Titan’s shoulder wound needed to be flushed and re-bandaged before the storm fully set in.
As I made my way toward the service elevator to head down to the laundry room, a quiet, metallic scraping sound caught my attention.
It wasn't coming from the lower floors. It was coming from above.
I stopped near the base of the grand staircase, turning my right side—my good ear—toward the sound.
Clack. Clack. Drag.
It was the rhythmic, uneven sound of someone walking with a heavy cane on polished wood.
The sound came from the third-floor corridor—the restricted wing where VIPER Castellano maintained his private quarters.
I looked down at Titan. He was standing beside my leg, his body taut as a bowstring, his single good ear swiveling upward. He didn't growl, but his jaw was locked tight.
I checked my watch. Dante was down at the harbor docks meeting with his shipping union reps. Most of the primary security detail had accompanied him in the three-car motorcade. The house was virtually empty, save for two guards at the front gate and the kitchen staff on the basement level.
I looked at the stairs. Nonna’s warning echoed in my mind: Be careful which doors you open, Rosalind. Some doors in this family only open inward.
I took a deep breath, grabbed the leather lead tightly in my right hand, and began to climb the stairs.
The third floor was significantly darker than the rest of the house. The walls were covered in dark green velvet wallpaper, and the air smelled heavily of old cigars, menthol rub, and damp woolen rugs.
We moved silently along the Persian runner until we reached the end of the hall. The door to VIPER Castellano’s study was ajar by two inches. A faint bar of yellow light spilled out onto the dark floor.
I pressed my back against the wall beside the frame, holding Titan back with my arm.
Inside, two voices were arguing in sharp, urgent tones.
“—he brought the boy to the gatehouse an hour ago!” a voice hissed. It was Marco. “The girl isn't just a maid, Uncle. She’s a certified vet tech. She’s been treating the dog’s wound every six hours. If the tear heals completely, the chip will be encapsulated in scar tissue—we won't be able to scan or excise it without an full operating theater!”
A heavy sigh echoed through the room, followed by the slow, wet cough of an elderly, sick man.
“You are a fool, Marco,” a second voice rasped—deep, gravelly, and wet with congestion. VIPER Castellano. “You had one job three nights ago. You had the dog pinned in the stables. You were supposed to cut the chip out and leave the body in the marsh. Instead, you let a hundred-pound animal break your wrist and drag himself to the laundry room.”
“The dog is a demon!” Marco snapped defensively. “He didn't make a sound! He took two hits from the stun baton and still lunged for my throat!”
“Silence,” VIPER growled. The heavy thump of a brass-headed cane hit the floor. “It doesn't matter now. The council meets on Thursday night. Dante thinks he can walk into the hall with the dog at his side and scan the chip in front of the syndicate heads to prove his legitimacy.”
“What are we going to do?”
“The girl is the weak link,” VIPER said, his voice dropping into a cold, ruthless murmur that made my skin crawl. “She has a brother now. A sixteen-year-old boy sitting in our gatehouse. Tomorrow night, during the storm, you will take two men from the docks. You will take the boy. If the girl wants her brother to see Friday morning, she will bring the dog to the boathouse herself and hand over the chip.”
I pulled back from the door frame, my lungs locked tight, my pulse hammering against my ribs so loudly I was terrified they would hear it through the wood.
They weren't just going to kill Titan. They were going to kidnap Marcus.
I began to step back slowly, easing my heels down onto the thick carpet to make no sound.
Then, Titan’s collar jingled.
It was a tiny, microscopic sound—the soft click of the brass leash ring against his metal tag.
Inside the room, the voices instantly stopped.
“Who’s out there?” Marco’s voice barked.
May you like
Heavy, hurried footsteps moved toward the door.
I didn't wait. I grabbed Titan’s harness, turned on my heel, and ran.
