Blood on the Marble
Blood on the Marble
Rebecca glanced at Clara.
Clara’s finger pressed the on switch.
Steam roared to life, hot and explosive.
Luca spun around.
“What the—?!”
Clara pointed the small handheld steamer at him, the boiling spray inches from his face—
“GET AWAY FROM US!” she screamed.
Everything erupted at once.
The jet of scalding steam blasted across the foyer.
Luca jerked back with a snarl, shielding his face with his arm.
The hiss of boiling vapor filled the room, ghostlike.
Clara stumbled to her feet, panting, holding the small steamer out in front of her like a burning cross warding off a demon.
Rebecca grabbed Clara’s elbow, trying to pull her behind her.
“Stay behind me—stay behind me!”
But Luca recovered faster than either of them expected.
His eyes—those cold, shark-black eyes—lifted slowly through the steam.
And he smiled.
A twisted, delighted, hateful smile.
“Awww… the pregnant one fights back. How adorable.”
Clara’s grip trembled, but she didn’t lower the steamer.
“Don’t come near us!”
He stepped forward.
She unleashed another burst of boiling steam.
Luca lunged aside, the spray catching his shoulder—but he never stopped moving.
He knocked the steamer out of Clara’s hand.
It clattered across the marble.
She gasped, wobbling as her hand instinctively shielded her belly.
Rebecca threw herself forward—
“Run, Clara! RUN—!”
Luca backhanded Rebecca so hard she hit the floor with a cracking thud.
Clara screamed.
“REBECCA!!”
Luca towered over Rebecca, raising the gun—
A voice floated from behind him.
“Brother.”
Luca froze.
Alina leaned against the doorway, chain cuffs glinting under the chandelier, watching him with amusement.
“That’s enough.”
He turned to her, confused.
“What are you doing?”
“What you never could,” Alina said softly.
“Controlling the room.”
She stepped past him, unfazed by the tension, by Clara shaking in the corner, by Rebecca groaning on the ground.
She knelt beside Clara.
“Let’s see you… sister-in-law.”
Clara held her breath.
The air felt sharp as blades.
Alina pressed two fingers lightly to Clara’s belly.
“You’re bigger than last time,” she whispered.
Clara’s heart pounded.
“You… you know me?” she whispered.
Alina didn’t answer.
Behind them, Luca shifted impatiently.
“We don’t have time for this. Marisol’s not back. Something’s wrong—”
Alina rose and smiled at him.
A chilling smile.
A knowing smile.
“That’s because everything is wrong, brother. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Underground — Erika Moves First
Elliott and Erika emerged from the narrow tunnel into the old basement under the mansion. Dust swirled. Pipes groaned.
Erika’s pistol shook slightly in her grip.
“Craig shut the emergency exit behind us,” Elliott whispered.
“He doesn’t want us to interfere.”
“He doesn’t get a choice,” Erika said.
They reached the iron hatch that led to the main hallway above.
Erika braced herself.
“Ready?”
Elliott nodded—terrified, but ready.
They pushed the hatch open.
Upstairs — The First Shot
Luca loomed behind his sister.
“Stop talking in riddles,” he snapped.
“Where’s Marisol? Is she with Sofia? I heard a shot—”
Alina shrugged.
“She probably died.”
Clara gasped.
Rebecca groaned.
And Luca’s face cracked.
“What?”
Alina tilted her head, studying him like a broken toy.
“You’re not ready for what’s coming.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he spat.
“It means,” Alina said,
“you were never supposed to be the one leading this.”
Luca raised the gun at her.
Alina didn’t flinch.
“Put it down.”
“No.”
“Put. It. Down.”
Her voice wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t harsh.
But something in it—cold, absolute—made the air go still.
Luca hesitated.
Clara watched, frozen, as Luca’s aim wavered.
Alina sighed.
“You never listen.”
A gunshot exploded.
Luca jerked backward, blood spraying across the marble.
Elliott stood in the hallway holding a gun with both trembling hands, Erika beside him.
“I warned you,” Elliott whispered, voice cracking,
“don’t touch my family.”
Luca staggered—but didn’t fall.
He clutched his side, snarling.
“You stupid—
you think a bullet kills me?”
Another voice echoed from above.
“Oh, but it might slow you down.”
Everyone looked up.
Craig’s speakers hummed.
And then
The lights went black.
The lights flickered back on—stuttering, weak—just long enough for Clara to see Luca’s gun turning toward Elliott.
That was her moment.
Her only moment.
She grabbed the fallen steamer with shaking hands, flicked the switch, and hurled the scalding burst straight into Luca’s face.
He screamed.
A raw, animal scream.
Steam curled off his skin as he stumbled back, clawing at his burned cheek.
“RUN, CLARA!” Rebecca shouted.
Clara bolted toward the foyer—
but Luca fired blindly.
CRACK—
Rebecca’s body jolted.
She collapsed before she could finish her sentence, eyes open, breath gone.
Clara froze.
Her scream caught in her throat.
“REBECCA—NO—NO—NO!”
The guard sprinted forward, sliding across the marble and catching Rebecca’s limp body in his arms.
He pressed his ear to her mouth.
Nothing.
“DEAD!” he shouted, voice cracking.
Clara sobbed, her knees trembling, her back pressed against the wall.
Luca blinked through the steam burns, vision smeared, raising the gun again—
but Alina moved.
Silent.
Precise.
Predatory.
She slipped behind the guard, ripped the fallen weapon from his holster, spun the cuffs off her wrists in one fluid motion—she had already loosened them.
Then she leveled her gun at Luca.
Her face was emotionless.
Cold.
Almost serene.
“Drop it,” she said softly.
Luca stared at her, disbelief and betrayal twisting his expression.
“You…
you’re choosing them?”
Alina cocked the gun.
“No, brother.
I’m choosing the one thing you never understood.”
“What?” Luca spat, wiping blood from his cheek.
Click.
Alina steadied her aim.
“Control.”
Luca hesitated—finally, truly afraid.
Clara pressed a hand to her belly, shaking as she backed away.
Elliott and Erika stood frozen behind her.
Even Craig fell silent.
Then Alina’s voice sliced through the tension:
“Everyone steps back.
He’s not the one leading this anymore.”
She is watching them