Chapter 12 - Blood on the Velvet
Bang.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space of the bedroom.
Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the burning agony of a bullet.
But the pain never came.
Instead, a heavy thud echoed across the hardwood floor.
Beatrice opened her eyes.
Mateo was on his knees, clutching his shoulder.
Blood was pouring through his fingers, staining his tactical vest a dark, slick red.
He had thrown himself in front of the bullet.
"Mateo!" Beatrice screamed.
Victoria laughed triumphantly, stepping over one of the dead mercenaries to get closer.
She aimed the gun at Mateo’s head, ready to finish the job.
"You always were too loyal to the wrong people," Victoria sneered.
Beatrice didn't think.
She didn't hesitate.
She didn't remember that she was a maid, or a nobody, or a woman who apologized for taking up space.
She only remembered that a monster was standing between her and the little girl she loved.
Beatrice raised the 9mm Leo had given her.
She gripped it with both hands, exactly as he had shown her.
She leveled it at Victoria's chest.
And she pulled the trigger.
The recoil sent a violent shockwave up Beatrice’s arms.
The loud crack drowned out the thunder outside.
Victoria froze.
The silver revolver slipped from her perfectly manicured fingers, clattering onto the floor.
Victoria looked down at her chest.
A dark red stain was rapidly blooming across her expensive silk blouse.
She looked back up at Beatrice, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"You..." Victoria choked out.
Her knees buckled.
She collapsed onto the Persian rug, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Beatrice stood frozen, the gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.
She had just killed a woman.
The room was completely silent except for the harsh sound of Mateo’s breathing.
Mateo groaned, leaning heavily against the bedframe.
"Nice shot, Bee," he rasped, coughing weakly.
Beatrice dropped the gun as if it had burned her.
She fell to her knees beside Mateo, her hands hovering frantically over his bleeding shoulder.
"Oh my God. Mateo. We need a doctor."
Before Mateo could answer, the roaring sound of helicopter blades chopped through the storm outside.
The deafening noise rattled the remaining glass in the windowframes.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, faster and more desperate than before.
Leo burst into the room.
He looked like a god of war, drenched in rain, his eyes wild and completely unhinged.
His weapon was drawn, scanning the room for threats.
He saw the dead mercenaries.
He saw Victoria bleeding out on the rug.
He saw Mateo on the floor.
And then his eyes locked onto Beatrice.
"Beatrice," Leo breathed, dropping his rifle.
He crossed the room in two massive strides and fell to his knees in front of her.
His large hands grabbed her face, frantically checking her for bullet holes.
"Are you hit?" Leo demanded, his voice cracking with raw panic. "Talk to me. Are you hit?"
"I'm okay," Beatrice sobbed, finally letting the tears fall.
"Mateo took the bullet. He needs help, Leo."
Leo didn't look at Mateo.
He wrapped his arms around Beatrice and pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face in her neck.
He held her so tightly she could barely breathe, and she didn't care.
"Daddy?"
The tiny, terrified voice came from the closet.
Leo pulled back, his eyes snapping to the heavy wooden door.
Beatrice scrambled up, opening the door and pulling Lily out from behind the coats.
Leo grabbed his daughter, pulling both Lily and Beatrice into a fierce, unbreakable embrace.
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"I've got you," Leo swore, his voice trembling in the dark.
"I've got both of you."
