Chapter 6 - The traitor's mark
The estate’s emergency alarms remained silent to avoid panicking the staff, but the flashing red security lights in the hallways cast long, eerie shadows. Maya locked the heavy wooden door to her suite, her heart racing as she sat on the edge of the bed, shielding a sleeping Noah.
An hour passed in agonizing silence. Finally, three heavy knocks echoed on the door, followed by Vincent’s deep voice. “Maya. Open the door.”
She unlocked it immediately. Vincent stepped inside, his black suit immaculate, entirely unharmed. Behind him stood two of his tallest, most disciplined bodyguards.
“The threat is neutralized,” Vincent said coldly. “The Falcone men didn't make it past the gardens. But they knew exactly when the guard shift was rotating. Someone on the inside gave them the schedule.”
Maya looked at the two bodyguards standing behind him. One of them, a tall man with a sharp jawline, was shifting his weight nervously. Maya’s time on the streets had taught her to read people, to spot the subtle twitches of a liar or a thief. She noticed a faint trace of wet mud on the edge of the guard's polished leather shoe—mud that matched the unique red clay near the south gate, an area the interior guards were never supposed to patrol.
“Vincent,” Maya said quietly, stepping closer to him and keeping her eyes fixed on the guard. “Why is his shoe muddy?”
The guard’s eyes widened. He reached toward his jacket pocket with alarming speed.
Vincent reacted with terrifying reflexes. He lunged forward, grabbing the guard's wrist and twisting it sharply until the man dropped to his knees. The other loyal bodyguard immediately drew a concealed weapon, aiming it squarely at the traitor.
Vincent pinned the man to the floor, his face a mask of absolute, chilling fury. “You sold my son’s safety for Falcone money.”
“They threatened my family, Boss!” the guard pleaded, his voice breaking.
“You no longer have a family here,” Vincent growled softly. He looked up at his loyal guard. “Take him away. Cleanly.”
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As the traitor was escorted out, Vincent stood up, adjusting his suit jacket. He looked at Maya, profoundly impressed. She hadn't screamed. She hadn't panicked. She had outsmarted a trained mole with nothing but observation.
“You are far more dangerous than you look, Maya Carter,” Vincent said, his voice laced with a dark, appreciative warmth.
