Chapter 8 - The Queen of the North Wing
BANG!
The silenced shot echoed through the corridor, but the bullet didn't hit Lily.
A split second before the trigger was pulled, a heavy brass floor lamp came flying down the hallway like a missile, striking the assassin squarely in the shoulder and throwing his aim wide. The bullet buried itself harmlessly into the wooden baseboard inches from Lily’s head.
The assassin spun around, raising his gun toward the source of the attack.
Standing at the doorway of Mason’s recovery suite was Mason Vale himself.
He was barefoot, wearing only his black trousers, his shirt half-buttoned over his bandaged chest. Blood was seeping slightly through his bandages from the sudden exertion, but his eyes were blazing with the fury of a caged beast.
Before the assassin could level his pistol again, Mason lunged forward with terrifying speed.
He caught the man’s gun hand, twisted it violently upward until bone cracked, and drove his fist straight into the assassin’s jaw. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he hit the carpet.
Within five seconds, heavy footsteps thundered up the grand staircase. Geno and four elite guards rushed into the north wing with assault rifles raised.
"Boss! Are you alright?" Geno shouted, scanning the hallway.
"Secure the perimeter!" Mason roared, breathing heavily, pressing a hand to his bleeding bandage. "Find out who let this bastard into the north wing!"
Geno and the guards fanned out instantly, dragging the unconscious assassin away.
Mason dropped to one knee beside Lily.
"Are you hurt, little one?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly with an emotion he rarely showed anyone.
Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, holding up her slightly bleeding palm. "My hand... and I dropped my doll."
Mason gently picked up her cloth doll from the floor and handed it back to her. Then, with infinite care, he scooped Lily up into his arms, rising to his full height.
Hannah rushed out of her suite, her face pale with terror, wrapped in a bathrobe. "Lily! Oh, my God—Lily!"
"She's safe, Hannah," Mason said, holding the little girl securely against his shoulder as she buried her face in his neck, sobbing softly.
At that moment, Evelyn walked down the hall from the private elevator, her expression carved from granite. She looked at the blood on the carpet, the unconscious assassin being dragged away down the stairs, and finally at Mason holding the kitchen maid's daughter.
"The Moretti family sent a message tonight," Evelyn said coldly. "They thought our north wing was a fortress. They were wrong."
Mason looked down at Lily, who had quieted down, her small fingers clutching the lapel of his shirt just as she had done two nights ago.
"They thought they could break us by targeting the weak," Mason said, his voice echoing with absolute, unbreakable authority across the mansion. He looked at Evelyn, then at Hannah, and finally kissed the top of Lily's dark curls.
"From this day forward, no one in Bellweather County touches a hair on this child's head. She is a Vale in all the ways that matter."
Hannah wiped a tear from her cheek, staring at the most feared man on the East Coast holding her daughter like she was a royal princess.
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The war with the New York syndicate had just begun. But as Mason carried Lily back into the safety of their suite, the entire underworld knew one thing for certain:
The kitchen maid’s daughter had just become the most protected person in America.
