Chapter 8 #2
Shaw studied me, then smiled slowly. "Remarkable. After everything, you still protect him. Not directly, perhaps, but through his children." He shook his head. "Thirty-two years of devotion doesn't simply evaporate, does it?"
The realization dawned too late. This entire evening had been a test, and I'd just failed it spectacularly.
"You never believed I would betray him," I said quietly.
"On the contrary. I hoped you might. It would have made things considerably easier." Shaw reached for his untouched drink, raising it in mockery of a toast. "But I suspected your loyalty ran deeper than any temporary grievance."
He moved around the desk until he stood directly before my chair, straightening my already perfect tie in that possessive gesture I'd come to loathe. Where Algerone's touch sent fire through my veins, Shaw's fingers made my skin crawl.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now we proceed to contingency planning."
Before I could react, his hand shot behind my neck, gripping hard to hold me in place. His mouth crashed against mine, brutal rather than passionate, a demonstration of power rather than desire.
Every cell in my body recoiled. This wasn't Algerone's mouth.
These weren't the lips that had claimed me on the plane, weren't the teeth that had marked me as property.
This was a violation, assault dressed up as a kiss.
My throat burned where Algerone had bruised it, as if his marks were rejecting this forced intrusion.
I was so consumed by the wrongness, by his tongue forcing past my lips, that I almost didn't notice the bitter note beneath the bourbon on his breath, or the slick feeling of something transferring from his lips to mine.
I shoved him back forcefully, wiping my mouth, desperate to remove any trace of him. But whatever substance had coated his lips was already working into my system.
"An old KGB technique," Shaw explained, calmly adjusting his tie, utterly unmoved by what he'd done. "Elegant, wouldn't you say? No needles, no suspicious drinks. Just a kiss."
Just a kiss. As if forcing himself on me was merely a delivery mechanism rather than an act of violence.
My vision blurred at the edges. The bruises on my throat throbbed in protest, as if Algerone's claim was fighting the foreign substance invading my bloodstream. "Poison?"
"Nothing so crude. Just something to make you compliant."
The drug worked at an alarming speed. My limbs grew heavy. The room undulated, colors intensifying unnaturally. Shaw's face seemed to shift like wax.
"Algerone will come for me," I stated.
"I'm counting on it. That's the entire point, Maxime. You're not the target. You're the bait."
The pain from the bruises provided a focal point amid the chemical fog. I pressed my fingers against my collar, the ache grounding me as the drug pulled me under.
"Get him out of here," Shaw ordered someone behind me. "Make it look like he left voluntarily."
Rough hands hauled me to my feet. The room tilted as I was guided, half-dragged, toward the door.
"We'll be in touch, Maxime," Shaw called after me. "Give Algerone my regards."
The next minutes blurred. Corridors stretched, faces swam, music distorted into nightmarish pulses. The marks Algerone had left burned against my skin, cutting through the fog. I concentrated on that sensation, using it to remain partially lucid.
My escorts, two men in suits with shoulder holsters, guided me through a service entrance into the Zurich night. The crisp air momentarily cleared my head. They were taking me somewhere else. Once there, I'd be truly trapped.
"Car's this way," one muttered, steering me toward a sedan with darkened windows.
I stumbled deliberately, crashing against him. The distraction allowed me to slip my hand into my pocket, pressing the emergency signal on my phone. Three rapid clicks, our prearranged distress code.
The sedan's door opened. I balked, knowing that entering meant surrendering any chance of escape. One man shoved me forward.
"Get in."
Headlights flooded the alley. A vehicle had turned sharply into the narrow space, engine cutting off abruptly. My escorts cursed, hands moving toward weapons.
A silhouette emerged from the darkness, tall, broad-shouldered, moving with predatory grace despite the silver-tipped cane.
The first guard cleared his weapon, but his finger never reached the trigger. Algerone's silenced pistol coughed once, the sound barely louder than a handclap. The guard crumpled instantly.
The second guard fumbled for his weapon. Algerone pivoted smoothly. Two shots, one to the throat, then forehead. Textbook kills delivered without hesitation.
Both men lay dead before I could process it.
Algerone stepped over the bodies without a glance, reaching for me with one hand while the other returned his pistol to its holster. His face betrayed nothing. Just absolute focus.
"Shaw knows about your sons," I managed, my voice slurring. "He has evidence. Enough to destroy us all."
“You’re slurring your words.” His eyes scanned me. "You've been drugged. How?"
"Forced kiss. Poison on his lips." My voice broke. "He assaulted me to deliver it."
Cold and lethal rage flashed in his eyes, the kind that preceded body counts. His grip tightened before he guided me toward his car.
My legs threatened to give way. He caught me effortlessly, securing me in the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel.
"He knows about the Volkov connections," I forced out through numb lips. "The FBI. RICO."
"Later." He cut me off with a single word. "Focus on staying conscious."
His command silenced me. Even drugged, decades of obedience ran too deep to ignore a direct order. He navigated through narrow streets, his profile sharp against passing streetlights.
The drug was winning. Darkness encroached on the edges of my vision. His hand left the steering wheel, fingers finding my wrist. He pressed against my pulse, grip firm enough to leave marks.
"You're mine, Maxime," he said, voice cold with certainty. "Always have been. Shaw touched what belongs to me." A pause, heavy with promise. "He'll answer for that."
As consciousness slipped away, I glimpsed his expression. This was Algerone Caisse-Etremont stripped to his essence, the predator I had devoted my life to serving.
Shaw had no idea what he'd just unleashed.