Chapter 8 - The Hidden Enemy Within the Family
Roman crossed the bedroom in three giant strides, grabbing the intruder by the collar of his tactical shirt.
He hoisted the grown man off the floor with one hand as if he weighed nothing at all.
“Who gave you the clearance code for the private elevator?” Roman demanded, his voice trembling with a terrifying, controlled fury.
The intruder spat a mouthful of blood onto the polished wooden floor and laughed weakly.
“Check your own bloodline, Costa,” the man wheezed before his head slumped sideways, unconscious from oxygen deprivation.
Roman threw the limp body carelessly onto the rug like a discarded rag.
He turned immediately toward the edge of the bed, his fierce expression softening slightly as he looked at Harper.
“Are you hurt?” Roman asked, kneeling beside the mattress and gently taking her trembling hands into his calloused palms.
“I’m fine,” Harper breathed out, closing her eyes as the adrenaline finally began to recede from her veins.
“Just... a few new bruises to match the old ones.”
“Marcus,” Roman called out without taking his eyes off Harper.
“Boss?” Marcus answered from the doorway, stepping over the shattered glass of the elevator foyer.
“Clear this body out of my sight, lock down every floor of this estate, and run a full diagnostic on the elevator security logs.”
“Find out exactly whose biometric override code was used to bypass the exterior firewall tonight.”
“Right away,” Marcus said, signaling two guards to haul the unconscious assassin out of the room.
Roman gently smoothed a strand of dark hair away from Harper’s damp forehead.
“I told you to rest,” he murmured, a faint trace of a smile touching the corner of his lips.
“An assassin broke into my bedroom, Roman,” Harper retorted with a tired smirk.
“Sleeping through that would have been remarkably unprofessional of your new accountant.”
Roman let out a low, rumbling chuckle that finally cleared the oppressive tension from the room.
“You never stop working, do you?” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead.
“Someone has to keep this family from tearing itself apart,” she replied softly, resting her head against his shoulder.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus reappeared in the doorway, holding a portable tablet displaying the security logs.
“Boss, we traced the override code,” Marcus reported, his expression grim and conflicted.
“Whose code was it?” Roman asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“It belonged to Elena Costa—your cousin,” Marcus said quietly.
Roman went completely still, the air in the room turning ice cold.
Elena had grown up alongside Roman, managing the syndicate’s European real estate portfolio for over a decade.
“She met with Victor Rossi three days ago at a private restaurant downtown,” Marcus continued, handing the tablet over.
“She provided the floor plans, the security codes, and your wedding itinerary in exchange for a fifty-percent cut of Rossi’s stolen empire.”
Roman stared down at the screen, his dark eyes reflecting the harsh blue light of the tablet.
“Where is she now?” Roman asked softly.
“She booked a private flight out of the municipal airstrip scheduled for two hours from now,” Marcus replied.
Roman stood up slowly from the bedside, his jaw set like iron.
May you like
“Saddle the cars,” Roman ordered, sliding his automatic pistol back into his shoulder holster.
“We’re going to the airstrip.”
