The Red-Haired descendant

Chapter 4

     Sara's Pov

Driving to the mansion felt effortless; the clock had just struck midnight, and the streets stretched out before me like an endless black ribbon, bathed in the dim silver glow of the moon. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the silence of the empty roads amplifying the buzz of worry in my mind. The events of the night replayed relentlessly, a loop that refused to let me rest.

The mansion loomed ahead, a stoic sentinel against the still night, its grandeur heightened by the quiet. As I pulled into the driveway, the air felt heavy with anticipation. Inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and lavender wrapped around me like a balm, a fleeting comfort. I shifted my weight carefully as I carried him through the door, his head lolling against my shoulder.

He was completely out, the telltale signs of too much whiskey evident—his body slack, a cocktail of sweat, alcohol, and exhaustion. I made my way up the grand staircase, each step measured and steady. When I reached my bedroom, the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp greeted us, casting shadows that danced on the walls in rhythm with the flicker of my thoughts.

His clothes were a mess, reeking of alcohol. I lowered him gently onto the bed, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Something about his vulnerability stirred a protective instinct deep within me. I worked quickly to unbutton his shirt, peeling it off with care. The sight of him in his disheveled state struck a chord—a mix of tenderness and resolve.

From the closet, I grabbed one of my oversized hoodies, its softness a deliberate choice. I slipped it over his head, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. His jeans had suffered the same fate as his shirt, the smell clinging stubbornly. With a quiet sigh, I removed them too, leaving him in just his underwear.

Finally, I pulled the covers over him, the weight of the night settling heavily on my shoulders, and watched him sink deeper into sleep.

As I sat in my office, the dull hum of the city outside barely registering, my phone buzzed insistently on the desk. I didn’t recognize the number at first, but when I saw it was Amara, I quickly answered.

“Boss,” she said, her voice steady and efficient. “We’ve apprehended Robert and everyone who works for him. What do you want us to do?”

A wave of relief washed over me. Robert had become a thorn in my side, but there were bigger fish to fry. “Good,” I replied, my mind racing with possibilities. “Don’t touch Robert. Take care of all the others; they’re a liability.”

“Got it,” Amara confirmed, a hint of a smirk evident in her tone even through the phone. “I’ll make sure they understand what happens when they cross us.”

I paused for a moment, my thoughts drifting to Marco and the woman who had become a part of this chaotic web we’d woven. “Have you heard from Marco? Is that woman safe?”

“Yes, they’re safe,” Amara assured me, her voice firm. “Marco said he’s on his way back. He’ll be there soon.”

“Good.” I felt a mixture of anxiety and determination. The safety of my people was always my priority, and Marco’s arrival meant reinforcements were on the way. “Stay sharp, Amara. We need to have all our bases covered. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Of course,” she replied, confidence lacing her tone. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“I’m coming to check on him now. Make sure the work I gave you is done before I get there.” I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, letting out a slow breath. Knowing that Robert was being held brought me a sense of satisfaction. I knew I needed to get my hands dirty soon, but for now, my focus was clear: protect my own and prepare for whatever storm might be coming our way.