Chapter 8 - Ambush at the Terrace
The fifth-floor terrace was dark, smelling of wet roses and distant rain.
As soon as Ivy stepped out onto the marble balcony, three armed men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows, blocking the exit.
Behind them stepped Marco Marcone and Vivienne Hale, holding a glass of wine.
"Well, well," Vivienne sneered, stepping into the dim light. "The maid thought she could play Queen for a night."
"Vivienne," Ivy said calmly, standing her ground, showing no fear. "And Marco Marcone. I see you’ve resorted to kidnapping now. Julian’s stocks must really be hitting rock bottom."
"Shut your mouth!" Vivienne shrieked. "You took my fiancé! You took my place at the Blackwood empire!"
"He was never yours, Vivienne," Ivy replied coldly. "You can't hold a man like Ronan with cruel antics and stolen silk."
Marco Marcone stepped forward, drawing a silenced pistol from his coat. "Enough talk. Grab the girl. Tied up, she’s worth fifty million in port contracts from Blackwood."
The three mercenaries lunged forward to grab Ivy.
Ivy didn't scream. She stepped back, grabbed a heavy ornamental bronze statue from a nearby pedestal, and swung it with all her strength into the first guard's face.
CRACK!
The man dropped like a sack of bricks, his nose shattered.
"Bitch!" Marco swore, raising his gun to aim at her shoulder.
BOOM!
The heavy oak doors of the terrace didn't just open—they were blown off their hinges by a explosive charge.
Smoke poured into the terrace as tactical operatives in black body armor flooded the roof, night-vision lasers painting red dots over every mercenary's chest.
Through the clearing smoke walked Ronan Blackwood.
He didn't wear a helmet. His tuxedo jacket was unbuttoned, his tie loosened, and his face was the absolute picture of terrifying, unbridled rage. In his right hand, he held a heavy tactical pistol.
"Touch her," Ronan whispered, his voice vibrating through the cold night air, "and I’ll paint this balcony with your brains."
Marco Marcone went pale, lowering his weapon instantly. "Blackwood! Wait! This was Hale’s idea—"
BANG!
Ronan fired a single shot without hesitation. The bullet struck Marco directly through the knee. Marco fell to the ground, screaming in agony.
The remaining mercenaries dropped their weapons, falling to their knees with their hands behind their heads.
Vivienne backed up against the balcony railing, hyperventilating with terror. "Ronan! Please! I loved you!"
Ronan walked past the groaning men, stepping directly up to Ivy. He checked her body quickly, his hands gentle as they stroked her face. "Are you hurt?"
"I’m fine," Ivy breathed, leaning into his warm touch. "I used the statue."
Ronan looked down at the unconscious mercenary on the floor, a dark, proud grin spreading across his lips. "That’s my girl."
He turned back to Vivienne and Marco, his grin vanishing into absolute darkness. "Kaelen."
"Yes, Boss?" Kaelen stepped out from the tactical team.
"Take Marco Marcone to the basement of Warehouse 4. Strip his family of every contract they own by morning," Ronan ordered. "And as for Vivienne Hale..."
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Ronan glanced at the sobbing heiress cowering against the railing.
"Issue the evidence to the Federal Prosecutor’s office," Ronan commanded. "Every tax fraud document, every illegal shipment, every assault charge Ivy and I compiled over the last three weeks. Arrest Julian Hale and Vivienne tonight."
