The wind whipping off the Tyrrhenian Sea carried a sudden, bitter chill that made the hair on Nia’s arms stand up. The brass key glinted in the harsh Mediterranean sun—a physical impossibility, considering the original sat heavy against her skin, tucked beneath her emerald kaftan.
Alejandro’s shock dissolved into lethal instinct. He didn’t waste breath on questions. In one fluid movement, his firearm cleared its holster, the black metal frame locking onto the boy’s chest. «Don’t move,» Alejandro barked, his voice carrying the dangerous weight of a man who had killed for less. «Madame, step back behind me.»
Nia didn’t move. She couldn’t. The sensation of the rough limestone beneath the soles of her shoes was overwhelmingly intoxicating, a sensory overload after seven years of numbness. But the boy didn’t even glance at the barrel pointed at his heart. Instead, he tilted his head, his dark, ancient eyes fixing on Alejandro’s weapon with something resembling amusement.
«Pointless,» the boy murmured.
Before Alejandro could pull the trigger, Brutus let out a sharp, pained whimper. The massive German Shepherd dropped to his belly, trembling violently as if pressed down by an invisible, crushing weight. Simultaneously, Alejandro’s knees buckled. A harsh gasp tore from his throat as his weapon clattered to the stone, his arm suddenly limp and useless at his side. He seized his right shoulder, groaning in agony as dark, bruised veins began to spiderweb across his neck in real-time.
«Alejandro!» Nia cried, taking a frantic step forward. Her balance was clumsy, her gait unpracticed, but she moved on her own two feet.
«Your bodyguard’s heart will burst in three minutes if you continue to waste time,» the boy said, his tone utterly clinical. He turned his back on them, walking toward the grand stone staircase that spiraled down the cliffside to the private marina below. «Four minutes now.»
Nia dropped to her knees beside Alejandro. His face was graying, sweat slicking his forehead as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. «Leave… me…» he choked out, his fingers digging into the limestone. «The ledger… Nia, don’t…»
«Shut up,» she snapped, her chest heaving with terror. She reached into her kaftan, tearing the hidden velvet pouch from around her neck and pulling out the leather-bound book from the specialized compartment built into the frame of her wheelchair. «Hold on. Just hold on.»
She grabbed the ledger, scrambled up, and sprinted toward the cliffside steps. Every stride was an unnatural sensation, a miracle wrapped in a nightmare. She took the stone stairs two at a time, the salt spray stinging her eyes as she descended toward the docks. Her mind reeled with unanswered questions. What had happened in Geneva? Who was this child? What kind of unnatural science—or bloodline—was she dealing with?
At the bottom of the stairs, the marina was eerily deserted. The usual parade of luxury yachts and bustling crew members had vanished, leaving only a sleek, matte-black speedboat idling near the wooden pontoon. Standing on the pier were two tall figures in sharp, dark suits, their hands folded neatly behind their backs. Between them stood the boy.
Nia slid to a halt on the wet wooden planks, clutching the ledger to her chest. Her lungs burned, but her legs held strong. «Let him go!» she demanded, her voice echoing over the roar of the boat’s engine. «I have the book!»
The taller of the two men stepped forward. He pulled off his dark sunglasses, revealing milky, blind eyes—and a face Nia recognized with a jolt that nearly knocked her off her feet.
It was Julian. Her former business partner. The man whose death she had mourned seven years ago after the car went off the bridge in Geneva.
«You look good on your feet, Nia,» Julian said, his voice smooth as silk, entirely unbothered by his apparent blindness. «Though I suppose you have young Master Vance to thank for that miraculous resurrection.»
«You died,» Nia breathed, horror pooling in her stomach. «I buried you.»
«You buried an empty coffin filled with sand and dental records,» Julian corrected smoothly, holding out a hand. «The syndicate needed us both gone, Nia. But while you played the tragic, paralyzed martyr, I built an empire in the shadows. Now, give me the ledger. It has the last key codes to the offshore accounts.»
Nia tightened her grip on the worn leather cover. «And Alejandro?»
«The moment the book touches my hand, Vance will release his hold on your dog and your guard,» Julian promised. «You have my word.»
«Your word is worth nothing!» Nia shouted over the ocean spray. «You set me up!»
«Thirty seconds, Nia,» Master Vance warned from the side, his voice chillingly neutral. «His heart is failing.»
«Thirty seconds, Nia,» Master Vance warned from the side, his voice chillingly neutral. «His heart is failing.»
Nia looked at the child, then at the blind man who had betrayed her whole life, and finally back at the ledger. She had spent seven years in a metal cage for this information. But she couldn’t let Alejandro die.
Tears of rage blinding her, Nia stepped forward and thrust the ledger into Julian’s outstretched hand.
Julian’s fingers closed around the leather. A sinister smile stretched across his pale face. «Predictable as ever.» He turned toward the boat. «Vance, kill them both.»
«Wait!» Nia screamed, lunging forward—but before Vance could even raise a hand, a deafening blast tore through the marina.
The matte-black boat exploded into a roaring inferno of fire and flying metal. The force of the shockwave threw Nia backward onto the wooden pier. Debris rained down around them as thick, black smoke choked the air.
Nia coughed violently, pushing herself up through the haze. Julian was on his knees, screaming in agony as the flames licked near him, the ledger burning to ash just inches from his hands.
Through the thick smoke, a figure emerged from the shadows of the boathouse, holding a smoking grenade launcher.
Nia gasped, her blood running cold as the smoke cleared to reveal the shooter’s face.
It was Alejandro. But he wasn’t wheezing, his skin wasn’t gray, and the dark veins were gone. He looked down at her with a cold, unfamiliar detachment, tossing the launcher aside and pulling a second gun from his belt.
«I told you it was a trap, Madame,» Alejandro said, his voice entirely devoid of the warmth he had shown her for seven years as he pointed the weapon directly at her head. «Because I set it.»