CHAPTER 5
719 Words
THE DEVIL DOESN'T ASK
The first thing Clara felt…
…was the cold leather beneath her hands.
Her vision blurred. The world swayed. Then everything came rushing back—the gunshots, the Romano family, Lucien.
She opened her eyes. Black leather seats. Tinted windows. A moving car. Her breathing quickened as she reached for the door handle.
Locked.
“Open it.”
No answer.
She looked across the car. Lucien Moretti sat opposite her, one leg crossed over the other, his attention fixed on a file in his lap as though nothing had happened, as though bullets weren’t still echoing in her ears.
“I said, open the door.”
He turned a page.
“I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You kidn*pped me.”
“No.”
“You dragged me into this car!”
“I prevented your kidnapping.”
“Against my will.”
Lucien finally looked up.
“For someone who almost got herself killed…” His voice remained calm. “…you’re remarkably argumentative.”
She lunged toward him.
“You arrogant—”
The car suddenly swerved. She lost her balance and fell straight into his lap.
The entire convoy fell silent over the radio.
Neither moved.
She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. She looked up. His green eyes met hers, expressionless.
“You’ve got five seconds,” he said quietly. “To move.”
Her cheeks burned as she shoved herself away.
“I didn’t fall on purpose.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I don’t care.”
She folded her arms.
“I hate you.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Marco, seated in the front passenger seat, cleared his throat.
“Boss.”
Lucien didn’t look away from Clara.
“What?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
Lucien pressed a button and the privacy screen lowered.
“Speak.”
“The Romano convoy isn’t following us anymore.”
“So?”
Marco hesitated.
“They’re heading toward the Ashcroft estate.”
Clara froze.
“My father…”
Lucien immediately reached for the radio.
“Turn around.”
The driver didn’t question the order. The convoy spun around at high speed.
Clara stared at him.
“You…”
He ignored her.
“You didn’t have to save him.”
Lucien’s eyes remained on the road.
“I’m not doing it for him.”
The words stung. She looked away.
“Of course not.”
Minutes later…
Smoke filled the sky.
The Ashcroft mansion was burning. Orange flames swallowed the roof. Windows exploded one after another. Firefighters hadn’t arrived. Neither had the police.
Because everyone knew whose war this was.
The Morettis.
The Romanos.
Lucien stepped out of his car. His gaze swept across the destruction.
Too late.
Clara pushed past the guards.
“Dad!”
She ran toward the burning house.
A strong hand grabbed her arm.
She spun around.
“LET ME GO!”
“You’ll die.”
“My father is in there!”
“He’s gone.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
Lucien looked toward Marco. Marco silently handed him a silver pocket watch, burned around the edges.
Clara recognized it instantly.
It had belonged to her father.
She snatched it from Lucien’s hand.
“No…”
Her knees buckled as she looked toward the burning house.
“Dad!”
No answer.
Only flames.
Only smoke.
Only silence.
Tears blurred her vision. She didn’t notice herself falling. She didn’t notice Lucien catching her before she hit the ground. Not gently. Not romantically. Simply because if she collapsed here, she would burn with the house.
She shoved him away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He released her immediately.
She stared at the fire. Everything she knew…
Gone.
Then a phone rang.
Not hers.
Lucien’s.
He answered.
“Speak.”
Marco watched his boss’s expression harden.
“What is it?”
Lucien lowered the phone.
“The body wasn’t your father’s.”
Clara looked up so quickly she nearly fell a
gain.
“What?”
Lucien’s voice became colder.
“Albert Ashcroft is alive.”
A moment of silence.
“He’s missing.”
- Writer
