The air left Leo’s lungs in a violent, silent gasp. His hand flew to his mouth to smother the ragged sob building in his throat, the sharp edges of his cut palm pressing hard against his lips. The metallic taste of his own blood mixed with the dust of the cellar, sickening and warm.
Through the narrow diamond-shaped gaps of the wooden rack, he could see the silhouette of Richard’s tailored Italian suit. The halogen flashlight angled upward, casting long, menacing shadows across the stone ceiling like reaching claws.
«She’s very thorough, your sister,» Richard continued, taking a slow step around the corner of the rack. The leather of his expensive shoes crunched over a stray piece of broken glass. «Calculated the exact dispersal rate of the aerosolized compound. Standard room temperature, slight draft from the hallway… it only takes three breaths to bind permanently to the hemoglobin of a blood relative.»
Richard stopped. The beam of light fixed directly on Leo’s boots sticking out from behind the bottom shelf.
«You’ve taken far more than three, haven’t you, Leo?»
Panic surged through Leo’s veins like liquid fire. He didn’t think; he reacted. Leaning back with all his weight, he kicked out with both feet against the base of the massive oak rack. The heavy structure, loaded with hundreds of full wine bottles, tilted forward with a sickening creak and crashed toward Richard.
A deafening cascade of shattering glass, splintering wood, and dark red liquid exploded in the narrow aisle. Richard roared in anger as he was knocked backward, the flashlight slipping from his grip and rolling beneath a far cabinet, painting the chaos in a swirling, erratic arc of light.
Leo scrambled to his feet, slipping in the lake of spilled wine and blood, and sprinted blindly toward the iron staircase. He practically threw himself up the steps, taking them three at a time as the terrifying sound of Richard cursing and struggling out from under the heavy rack echoed below him.
He reached the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs, slammed his shoulder against it, and burst out into the grand hallway of the St. Clair estate.
The silence of the upper mansion was even more terrifying than the noise below. The grand marble foyer, usually bustling with uniformed staff and wealthy guests, was entirely deserted. The massive front doors swung wide open, letting in a cold, howling rain that swept across the polished floorboards. Outside, the flashing red and blue lights of the fading ambulances cast a rhythmic, bloody glow across the cavernous room.
Leo stumbled into the center of the foyer, clutching his chest. A deep, burning sensation had begun to radiate behind his ribs, like a hot needle slowly sinking into his lungs.
She set me up, his mind screamed, the betrayal tearing through him far worse than the creeping poison. She used me from the very start.
A faint, muffled chime rang out from the far end of the corridor.
Leo froze, straining his ears over the sound of the pouring rain. It was the distinct ringtone of his own phone—the one he had dropped in the panic after Victoria collapsed. It was sitting on a glass side table beside the grand staircase, its screen glowing bright white in the dim light.
UNKNOWN CALLER
Heart hammering against his ribs, Leo rushed over and snatched the phone, pressing it to his ear. His voice was a ragged whisper. «Elena?»
«If you want to live, do not take another breath through your nose,» a sharp, unfamiliar woman’s voice commanded over the line. It wasn’t Elena. The tone was clipped, clinical, and chillingly precise. «The toxin binds via nasal mucous membrane pathways. Mouth breathing slows the arterial absorption rate by sixty percent.»
Leo’s throat constricted. He immediately clamped his mouth shut, forced himself to inhale deeply through his lips, and stammered, «Who… who are you?»
«I am the person who formulated the compound,» the woman replied coldly. «And I am standing right behind you.»
Leo spun around, his heart leaping into his throat.
Standing in the shadow of the grand archway was a woman in a immaculate white trench coat, her dark hair pulled back into a tight, military bun. She held a heavy brass syringe in one hand and a small, glass vial filled with a glowing amber liquid in the other.
Standing in the shadow of the grand archway was a woman in a immaculate white trench coat, her dark hair pulled back into a tight, military bun. She held a heavy brass syringe in one hand and a small, glass vial filled with a glowing amber liquid in the other.
«Your sister didn’t invent the poison, Mr. Vance,» the woman said, stepping into the dim light of the foyer. Her eyes were devoid of any warmth. «She bought it from my laboratory. But she lied to both of us about who the target was going to be tonight.»
Behind Leo, the heavy basement door banged open with a violent thud.
Richard stepped out into the hallway, his face streaked with vintage Cabernet and dark blood, a heavy steel crowbar held tightly in his right hand. He locked eyes with the woman in the white coat, his expression twisting into a mask of pure fury.
«Dr. Chen,» Richard growled, advancing with slow, murderous intent. «You were paid to stay in the lab.»
«You paid me to kill Victoria St. Clair,» Dr. Chen said, her voice remaining impossibly steady as she raised the syringe. «Not to eradicate the entire Vance bloodline. Your greed has compromised the entire protocol.»
Before Richard could answer, a loud, metallic CLICK echoed from the top of the grand staircase above them.
Everyone froze.
Leo looked up. Standing on the second-floor balcony, looking down at the three of them, was Victoria St. Clair.
She was supposed to be in a coma, her body loaded into an ambulance minutes ago. But she stood tall, wearing an dark silk robe, completely unbothered, holding a heavy suppressed pistol pointed directly at Dr. Chen’s chest.
«None of you were ever as clever as you thought,» Victoria said, her voice smooth, calm, and utterly terrifying. She slowly clicked off the safety. «Now, drop the antidote, Doctor, or I ensure none of us leave this house alive.»