I grip the skillet. "How did you find us?"
"Money leaves a trail," Vane says, closing the umbrella. "Even crypto. Even Swiss accounts. You moved a lot of money this week, darling. Buying a villa? Hiring a private doctor? Very sloppy."
He walks toward me. "Where is he?"
"He's dead," I lie. "The sepsis took him."
Vane laughs. "We both know that's not true. Graves is too stubborn to die." He gestures to his men. "Find him. Bring him to me. Alive. I want to bleed him myself."
The men move toward the stairs. "NO!" I scream. I swing the skillet at Vane. He catches my wrist. Easily. He twists it. I drop the pan.Clang.He slaps me. Hard. I fall to the floor, tasting blood.
"You humiliated me," Vane hisses, standing over me. "In my own casino. You took my money. You took my key. You put a knife to my throat." He kicks me in the ribs. "Tonight, I take it all back."
He reaches down to grab my hair.BANG.
Vane’s shoulder explodes. He screams, spinning around. Alaric is standing at the top of the stairs. He is holding the hunting rifle from the cabinet. An old bolt-action Winchester. He works the bolt.Click-clack.He aims.
"Get away from her," Alaric roars.
The two guards pull their weapons. Submachine guns. They fire.RAT-TAT-TAT.Alaric dives behind the banister. Wood splinters rain down on the foyer.
"Kill him!" Vane screams, clutching his shoulder. "Kill them both!"
I am on the floor. The gun—the SIG—is upstairs on the nightstand. I have nothing. Except... The umbrella. Vane dropped it. It has a long, steel tip.
I roll. I grab the umbrella. One of the guards is standing near me, aiming up at the balcony. I thrust upward. I drive the steel tip into the back of his knee. He buckles, roaring in pain. He falls.
I scramble up. I run for the kitchen. "Alaric! The kitchen!"
Alaric pops up. He fires again.BANG.He hits the second guard in the chest. The man stumbles but doesn't fall. Body armor. Alaric jumps. He vaults over the railing. It’s a fifteen-foot drop. He lands in a crouch, groaning as his bad leg takes the impact. He sprints toward me.
Bullets chew up the floor behind him. We dive into the kitchen. I slam the heavy oak door. I throw the deadbolt. It won't hold them for long.
"The rifle?" I ask.
"Empty," Alaric says, tossing it aside. "I had two rounds."
"They have automatics."
"We have the house," Alaric says. He is breathing hard, but he is focused. "We know the terrain. They don't."
Bang. Bang. Bang.Bullets punch through the door. "The cellar," Alaric whispers. "There is a wine lift. A dumbwaiter. It goes to the sub-basement."
"And then?"
"And then we turn the lights out." He points to the fuse box on the wall. "Kill the power. I have night vision goggles in the study cache. But they are upstairs."
"We can't go upstairs."
"We don't need goggles," Alaric says, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "We have ears."
He pulls the fuse box open. He yanks the master breaker. The villa goes black. Pitch black. The gunfire stops. The men outside the door pause. They are blind.
"They have flashlights," I whisper.
"Flashlights create tunnels," Alaric says. "They narrow the vision. We stay in the periphery."
He opens the dumbwaiter hatch. "Get in."
