Chapter 6 - Shadow of the Viper
We moved silently up the back stairwell toward the staff quarters on the third floor. The house was eerie in the dead of night, every shadow seeming to stretch and twist into a potential threat.
Alessio walked half a step ahead of me, his gun drawn, moving with the silent grace of a seasoned predator. I followed close behind, holding a heavy flashlight.
"Martha's room is at the end of the hall," I whispered, pointing down the narrow corridor.
The door to Martha's room was slightly ajar.
Alessio held up a hand, signaling me to stop. He nudged the door open with the tip of his shoe. It swung inward with a faint groan.
The room had been ransacked.
Drawers were pulled out, clothes were scattered across the floor, and near the window, the floorboards had been brutally pried open with a crowbar.
"Someone beat us to it," Alessio growled, stepping into the room and scanning the corners with his gun raised.
I rushed over to the pried floorboard. The dusty space beneath was empty, save for a small scrap of torn paper lying in the corner.
I pulled a pair of medical gloves from my pocket, slipped them on, and carefully picked up the scrap. "Alessio, look."
It was a fragment of a bank receipt. Most of it was burned off, but a few key details remained visible: a timestamp from three days ago, a logo of a private Swiss offshore bank, and a partial account signature ending in -V.R.
My eyes widened. "V.R."
"Vincenzo Romano," Alessio snarled, the name dripping from his lips like venom. "My uncle."
"He knew Martha was being blackmailed," I realized, the pieces of the puzzle rapidly clicking together. "Or better yet—he was the one blackmailing her! He used her grandson to force her to install the spyware, gave her the planted money to make her look like a paid traitor, and then executed the attack himself!"
"He wanted Leo dead so he could claim leadership of the family assets," Alessio said, his voice dropping into a chilling register. "If Leo dies, the family trust defaults back to the council—which Vincenzo chairs."
Suddenly, the floorboard behind us creaked.
Alessio turned instantly, raising his weapon, but a heavy iron fire poker slammed down across his arm with a sickening crack!
Alessio’s gun clattered to the floor.
Out of the shadows lunged a tall, heavy figure wearing a dark coat and leather gloves. It wasn't Uncle Vincenzo—it was his personal bodyguard, a mountain of a man named Boris!
"Get out of here, Clara!" Alessio roared, tackling Boris around the waist before the giant could strike again.
The two massive men crashed into the wooden wardrobe, splintering the frame. Boris was larger, but Alessio fought with the feral fury of a father defending his blood. They rolled across the floor, striking each other with devastating blows.
Boris managed to pin Alessio against the wall, wrapping his thick hands around Alessio’s throat, pressing his thumb into his windpipe. "The old man sends his regards, Boss," Boris growled.
Alessio gasped for air, his vision darkening, his hands clawing at Boris’s iron grip.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed the heavy brass table lamp off Martha's nightstand, swung it with every ounce of strength in my body, and brought it down hard across the back of Boris’s head!
CRACK!
The ceramic shattered. Boris groaned, his eyes rolling back, and he collapsed sideways onto the floor, unconscious.
Alessio slumped against the wall, coughing violently, gasping for air. He looked up at me through dark, wild eyes, his chest heaving.
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"You... you hit him with a lamp," Alessio choked out between coughs.
"I told you," I gasped, holding the broken cord of the lamp like a weapon. "I don't break my promises. Now get up, Mr. Romano. Your uncle is trying to escape."
