Chapter 12 - Blood Upon the Snow
The deafening roar of gunfire in the enclosed concrete hallway was absolute chaos.
Nicholas’s first shot struck Lucian’s bodyguard squarely in the chest, dropping the massive man instantly. Lucian fired in blind panic, two rounds ricocheting violently off the reinforced steel vault door behind Nicholas.
A sharp gasp tore from Nicholas’s throat.
A third bullet caught Nicholas in the upper left shoulder, spinning him slightly, but the mafia king didn't fall. With savage, inhuman focus, Nicholas raised his weapon again and fired two precise rounds into Lucian Vane’s chest.
Lucian’s eyes widened in shock. The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering against the concrete floor. He staggered backward, hit the far wall, and slid down leaving a dark red smear against the stone, his breath rattling out of him in a final, dying shudder.
Silence crashed down over the corridor.
"Nicholas!" Emily screamed, lunging forward as Nicholas dropped to one knee, his right hand clamping down over the bleeding wound in his left shoulder.
"I'm fine... Emily, stay back," Nicholas grunted, his face pale, sweat beading across his forehead as blood seeped rapidly through his black tactical vest.
"You're not fine!" Emily cried out, falling to her knees beside him. She stripped off her heavy silk robe, balling it up and pressing it with all her strength against the bullet wound to stem the bleeding. "Hold on! Please, hold on, Nicholas!"
Footsteps pounded down the stairwell. Roman burst into the corridor, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle, followed by three guards.
"Boss!" Roman shouted, seeing Nicholas on the floor.
"The manor is secure?" Nicholas rasped, looking up at his lieutenant.
"Every single one of Vane’s men has been neutralized," Roman reported quickly, dropping down beside Emily to inspect the wound. "The medics are upstairs. Let's get him to the infirmary."
For the next four hours, Emily refused to leave Nicholas’s side.
She sat in the private medical wing of the estate, holding his uninjured hand while Dr. Vance extracted the bullet, cleaned the wound, and stitched the torn muscle. When Nicholas was finally transferred back to his master suite to recover, Emily pulled a chair beside his bed, bathing his fevered forehead with cool water and ensuring he remained comfortable.
As dawn broke over the estate, the golden light revealed the aftermath of the battle. Snowplows were clearing the driveway, and security teams were restoring the perimeter.
Nicholas slowly opened his eyes, the heavy fog of anesthesia clearing from his mind.
The first thing he saw was Emily. She was curled up in the leather armchair beside him, her small hand still resting protectively over his fingers, her face pale with exhaustion.
A profound warmth, deeper than anything he had ever felt, spread through his chest.
He moved his fingers slightly, gently squeezing her hand.
Emily stirred instantly, sitting up with wide, worried eyes. "Nicholas! How do you feel? Do you need water? Let me call Dr. Vance—"
"Emily," Nicholas whispered, his voice weak but filled with overwhelming tenderness. "Stop. Come here."
She leaned closer, tears shimmering in her hazel eyes. "You scared me to death, you idiot."
Nicholas reached up with his uninjured hand, gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.
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"I told you," Nicholas said softly, a faint smile touching his lips. "As long as I draw breath, no one will ever hurt you. You saved my life down there, Emily."
"We saved each other," she whispered, leaning down and resting her forehead against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.
