Chapter 9 - The Line Transgressed
Josephine backed away as the heavy-set gunman stepped into the bedroom, his rifle pointed directly at her chest.
“Well, well,” Vane sneered, his breath heavy and smelling of tobacco. “The boss was right. Orsini does have a little bird hidden away up here.”
“Get out,” Josephine said, her voice shaking, though she held her ground beside the window, clutching a heavy iron candlestick she had grabbed from the desk.
Vane laughed, stepping forward and reaching out to grab her by her sweater collar. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart. Let’s see how tough Raphael is when I put a bullet in your—”
He never finished the sentence.
A shadow materialized in the broken doorway behind him.
Raphael did not use his gun. He grabbed Vane’s wrist, twisting it with a sickening crack that dropped the rifle to the floor. Before the man could scream, Raphael slammed him face-first into the heavy stone fireplace mantle.
Vane fell to the carpet, blood streaming from his nose, gasping for air.
Raphael stepped over him, his face completely devoid of human warmth. His eyes were cold, black abysses of absolute, unadulterated fury. He drew a combat knife from his belt and knelt beside the groaning mercenary.
“Raphael!” Josephine screamed, lunging forward and grabbing his arm before he could strike.
Raphael froze.
The blade stopped an inch from Vane’s neck. He turned his head slowly to look at Josephine. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his wrist, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
“Don't,” she begged him, her voice breaking into a whisper. “Don't do this. Not because of me. Don't let him turn you into what they think you are.”
Raphael stared at her for five agonizing seconds. The intense, murderous rage that had consumed his mind slowly began to recede, beaten back by the soft, desperate plea in her eyes.
He lowered the knife.
“Tomas,” Raphael called out without looking away from Josephine.
Tomas appeared in the doorway a second later, two guards behind him. “Sir?”
“Take this trash out of my house,” Raphael commanded softly. “Hand him over to the federal authorities along with the evidence from Pier 42. Let Moretti watch his entire syndicate dismantle from a cell.”
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“Yes, boss,” Tomas said, dragging the half-conscious Vane out into the corridor.
The room fell quiet once more, except for the sound of the rain outside and the heavy, ragged breathing of two people standing in the ruin of the broken doorway.
