Chapter 5 - The Silver Ring
"Get that beast away from me!" Marcus shrieked, jumping backward, hiding behind his two guards. "Draw your guns! Shoot it!"
"Don't you dare!" Cora stepped between the guards and Nero, holding her hands out. "Nero, heel! Seduto!"
Nero slowly sat down, his body trembling with rage, his eyes never leaving Marcus’s silver ring.
"He remembers you, Mr. Marcus," Cora said, her voice dropping into an icy, dangerous calm. "He remembers who hit him in the food shed three months ago. That scar on his face matches the shape of your signet ring."
Marcus’s face flushed red with fury. "You crazy little bitch! Are you accusing me?!"
"You didn't just hit him," Cora continued, her mind racing as everything fell into place. "You were the one in the food storage shed at 4:30 AM yesterday! You poisoned his food so the Moretti family could breach the north fence! You’re working with the Morettis to eliminate your brother!"
"Shut her up!" Marcus roared to his guards. "Grab her!"
"Touch her, and you die where you stand."
A deep, commanding voice cut through the room like a broadsword.
Julian Thorne stood in the doorway. He was accompanied by Vance and four of his elite, heavily armed house guards. Julian’s face was unreadable, but the air around him felt so cold it seemed to drop the temperature in the room by ten degrees.
Marcus spun around, forcing a nervous, greasy smile. "Julian! Thank God you're here! I came to arrest this girl—we found more poison in her locker!"
Julian didn't look at Marcus. He looked at Nero, who was sitting quietly beside Cora, his gaze still fixed hatefully on Marcus’s hand.
"Julian," Cora spoke clearly, stepping forward. "Look at Nero's left snout scar. The three square notches. Look at your brother's right hand."
Julian slowly turned his eyes toward Marcus’s hand.
Marcus instinctively pulled his hand back, trying to slip it into his pocket.
"Take your hand out of your pocket, Marcus," Julian ordered softly.
"Julian, this is absurd! You're taking the word of a dog and a servant over your own blood?!" Marcus yelled.
"Vance," Julian commanded flatly. "Hold him."
Before Marcus’s guards could react, Julian’s elite security force disarmed them in two fluid motions, pinning them against the wall. Vance stepped forward, grabbed Marcus by the collar, and pulled his right hand out, holding it up into the light.
Julian stepped closer, examining the silver signet ring on Marcus’s finger. The ring carried the ancient Thorne family crest—a three-pointed crown with sharp, square edges.
Julian pressed the ring gently against the faded scar on Nero’s snout.
It was an exact, perfect match.
Julian’s face went dead white. The silence in the room was so thick you could hear the rain tapping against the glass.
"Three months ago," Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Nero was found bleeding in the stable alley. I thought he had caught his face on a rusted nail. You told me you were in Miami that weekend, Marcus."
Marcus began to sweat profusely, his eyes darting wildly toward the open door. "Julian... listen to me... the dog attacked me! I was defending myself!"
"Nero doesn't attack unless he's threatened," Julian said coldly. He turned his eyes onto Detective Miller, who had just walked into the hallway outside. "Vance, secure Detective Miller and my brother. Take them to the basement holding rooms."
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"Julian! You can't do this! I'm a Thorne!" Marcus screamed as Vance dragged him out of the room. "You're choosing an animal over your own family!"
Julian didn't answer. He stood in the quiet room, looking down at the wooden floorboards, the weight of an incredible betrayal crushing down on his shoulders.
