Chapter 6 - The Blood on the AltarTeddy took a step back, his gun shaking slightly as he aimed it at Cash’s chest. “How did you get up here? My men were guarding the stairs.”
“Your men work for money, Teddy,” Cash said, stepping into the dusty light of the tower. “My men work for the family. And they know what happens to traitors in Baltimore.”
From the shadows behind Cash, three Mercer captains stepped into the room, their weapons drawn and aimed directly at Teddy’s head.
Teddy’s face turned a sickly, transparent gray. He looked at Cash, then at Marin, realization finally breaking through his panic. “You... you knew. You knew about the poison.”
“I knew the moment Marin told me the first stitches were meant to hide the wound, not heal it,” Cash said, his voice carrying a quiet, terrifying resonance. He looked down at Marin, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second before turning back to Teddy. “I had my own doctor run a blood panel while we were waiting for the cars. The cyanide levels were already rising. If Marin hadn't cut those threads out when she did, I wouldn't have made it to the cathedral vestibule.”
He walked toward Teddy, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his chest. Teddy’s hand shook violently, but he couldn't pull the trigger. The authority Cash carried wasn't just built on muscle; it was built on a lifetime of absolute, unshakeable control.
Cash reached out, his hand wrapping around the barrel of Teddy’s pistol and gently but firmly twisting it out of his grip.
“You’re finished, Teddy,” Cash said, tossing the gun to one of his captains. “Take him to the warehouse in Sector 4. I’ll deal with him after the service.”
The guards grabbed Teddy, dragging him down the stairs while he screamed for mercy, his elegant, smooth-faced composure completely shattered.
Cash knelt beside Marin, pulling a silver pocket knife from his vest. With one swift, precise movement, he cut the plastic zip-ties from her wrists. He reached out, his gloved hand gently lifting her chin so she had to look into his eyes.
“You came back,” he said, his voice quiet.
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“I couldn't let them kill you,” Marin whispered, her hands shaking as she rubbed her bruised wrists. “Not after I worked so hard on those stitches.”
The corner of Cash’s mouth twitched into a genuine, rare smile. “A good craftsman protects his work. Come on. We have a wedding to cancel.”
