Chapter 13 - Poisoned Lullabies
"Leo!"
The scream tore from Anna’s throat before the call abruptly went dead. The handset clattered against the marble floor, shattering its casing. She didn't look at Vincent; she was already sprinting for the private elevator, her heels echoing against the marble like frantic hammer strikes.
Vincent was right behind her, shoving his way into the elevator cab just as the brushed-steel doors began to slide shut.
"Call the estate!" Anna shouted, her knuckles bloody where she had slammed her fist against the 'Lobby' button. "Call Gable! Call the doctor! Vincent, call them!"
Vincent’s thumbs were already flying across his phone screen. "Marcus! Code Red at the main residence. Lock down all exits. Get Dr. Mercer to the nursery right now! No one enters, no one leaves!"
"I'm already at the gate, boss," Marcus’s voice crackled through the speaker, accompanied by the shriek of spinning tires. "The front doors were unlocked. We found the day-nanny unconscious in the pantry. Dr. Mercer is three minutes out."
Anna slumped against the mirrored wall of the elevator, sliding down until her knees hit the carpeted floor. Her hands shook violently as she grabbed her face, hyperventilating. "Not him... please God, not him... take me... take everything... not my baby..."
Vincent dropped to his knees beside her. Forgetting the boundaries, forgetting the three years of ice and estrangement, he wrapped his long, powerful arms around her shaking frame. Anna gasped, instinctively trying to push him away, but Vincent held firm, burying his face in her hair.
"He's going to be fine," Vincent growled, his voice vibrating with absolute, desperate conviction into the crown of her head. "I swear to you on my soul, Anna, he is alive. I won't let the fire touch him. Breathe. Look at me. Breathe!"
Anna looked up, her tear-stained face pale as chalk. In his eyes, she saw no hesitation, no cowardice, only a terrifying, feral determination. She grabbed his lapels, her fingers twisting into the silk of his suit, clinging to him like a lifeline in a storm.
"If he dies, Vincent," she choked out, her voice breaking into a sob, "I die with him."
"He lives," Vincent promised, his lips brushing her temple in an automatic, desperate gesture of solace. "He lives, or Julian Vance will pray for hell before I'm finished with him."
The elevator chimed, opening onto the underground garage. Vincent lifted Anna to her feet with ease, keeping his arm locked securely around her waist as they sprinted toward his reinforced Maybach. The V12 engine roared to life with a primal snarl, tires smoking as Vincent tore out of the subterranean garage, blasting past the security barriers and rocketing onto the rainy streets of Chicago.
Red lights meant nothing. Vincent drove like a demon possessed, weaving through congested midday traffic at ninety miles per hour, siren lights hidden behind the grille flashing blue and crimson. Next to him, Anna gripped the dashboard, her eyes fixed on the rain-slicked asphalt, whispering silent, frantic prayers.
Twelve minutes later, the Maybach drifted through the gates of the Sterling estate, shredding the manicured lawn as it skidded to a halt in front of the fountain. Three black tactical trucks were already parked on the gravel, men in body armor clearing the perimeter with assault rifles drawn.
Anna flung the passenger door open before the car had fully stopped, tumbling onto the wet grass, scrambling up, and running through the open front doors.
"Leo! Leo!"
She bounded up the grand staircase two steps at a time, bursting into the child’s bedroom.
Dr. Mercer, the family’s private pediatrician, was kneeling beside Leo’s small bed. The boy was pale, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead, his small chest heaving in shallow, rapid pants. An IV line was already taped to his tiny arm, connected to a clear saline bag hanging from a curtain rod.
"Doctor!" Anna dropped beside the bed, tears streaming freely as she pressed her lips against Leo’s burning forehead. "What is it? What did they give him?"
"It’s an organophosphate derivative," Dr. Mercer said calmly, his experienced hands adjusting the drip rate. "A localized synthetic neurotoxin. It was introduced into his beverage. Small dose. Not lethal, thank God—designed to incapacitate and trigger severe respiratory distress."
"Will he survive?" Vincent’s voice cracked from the doorway. He stood there, his coat soaked in rain, looking like a shattered statue.
"I administered the atropine counter-agent immediately," Dr. Mercer replied, looking over his shoulder at Vincent. "We caught it early. Within an hour, his fever will break, and his lungs will clear. He’s going to make a full recovery, Mr. Moretti."
Anna collapsed across Leo’s small body, burying her face into the soft cotton sheets, her shoulders heaving with silent, racking sobs of relief. Leo stirred faintly, his tiny hand twitching, fingers curling around Anna’s dark hair.
"Mama..." the boy muttered weakly.
"I'm here, my angel," Anna wept, kissing his small knuckles over and over. "Mama’s right here. You're safe."
Vincent stood in the doorway, watching the woman he loved hold their child. He didn't dare step closer to contaminate the sacred space of her relief. He slowly backed away, retreating into the dim corridor.
Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his face grim, holding a silver tablet.
"We found the driver," Marcus said in a low whisper. "Julian Vance’s personal courier dropped the contaminated milk at the supply depot two hours before dawn. The courier is currently holed up in a shipping warehouse near the Calumet River."
Vincent’s expression turned into a mask of pure, unadulterated slaughter. The vulnerability, the remorse, the tears—all vanished, replaced by an abyss of lethal, calculated violence.
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"Don't call the police," Vincent said, pulling a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and sliding them over his long fingers. "Bring the car around. We’re going to have a conversation."
***
