Chapter 518
Chapter 518:
“Where are we going now p>
“To take the first piece on the board p>
The drive to the main Moretti mansion was a funeral procession of black SUVs.
Skye sat next to Lucian in the back of the lead car. The leather was soft, the air conditioning cold, but she felt like she was sitting in an electric chair. Vargo was driving. She could see his eyes in the rearview mirror, watching her.
They pulled through the massive iron gates of the estate.
It was a palace of old-world bad taste. Fountains shaped like cherubs pissing champagne. Gold leaf on the statues. But now, it looked like a war zone.
Graves’ remaining men were everywhere. They were dragging people out of the main house—staff members, security guards, maids who had served the Moretti family for decades.
Skye watched as an old man in a butler’s uniform was shoved to the ground. He dropped a silver tray, and a tea set shattered on the asphalt. A guard kicked him in the ribs.
Skye’s hand twitched toward the door handle.
“Don’t,” Lucian said. He hadn’t looked at her, but he saw everything. “It’s a hostile takeover, Skye. Emphasis on hostile p>
“They’re servants,” Skye hissed. “They didn’t do anything p>
“They served the wrong master,” Lucian said. “Complicity has a price p>
The car stopped. Lucian got out. He adjusted his jacket, wincing as the fabric pulled against his burns, attempting casual elegance as if he were arriving for a dinner party and not an invasion.
He opened Skye’s door. “Shall we p>
Skye stepped out. The desert heat hit her, dry and oppressive. She walked beside Lucian, her heels clicking on the stone steps leading up to the massive double doors.
The main hall was a cavern of marble and velvet. In the center, hanging above a fireplace large enough to roast a whole ox, was a portrait.
It was Giovanni Moretti. He was painted in the style of a Renaissance king, sitting on a throne, looking benevolent and wise. It was a lie in oil paint.
Lucian stopped in the center of the room. He looked up at the painting.
“Tacky,” he murmured.
He reached under his jacket.
B𝘳𝗼wѕе 𝘣у cа𝘁𝗲𝗴o𝗿y 𝗼ո 𝗯𝗲.𝗰o𝘮
Skye didn’t see the gun until it was already in his hand.
BANG.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Skye flinched, her hands flying to her ears.
A hole appeared in the center of Giovanni Moretti’s painted forehead.
The echo of the shot rolled around the room, bouncing off the marble pillars. From the shadows, a maid screamed and dropped a vase.
Lucian didn’t lower the gun. He fired again. And again.
BANG. BANG.
One shot took out Giovanni’s left eye. The other shattered the gold frame.
Debris rained down onto the pristine white rug.
Lucian holstered the weapon smoothly. He turned to the room, addressing the trembling staff members who had been rounded up against the wall.
“From today,” Lucian announced, his voice carrying without shouting, “this house belongs to Graves. Clear out the trash. Burn the furniture. I want the smell of Moretti out of here by midnight p>
He turned to Skye. His eyes were bright, dilated with the rush of violence.
“Pick a room,” he said. “Any room you want. Except the master suite. That’s mine p>
Skye looked at him. He was terrifying. He was a force of nature that destroyed everything in its path just to reshape the world in his image.