Chapter 7 - THE BABY MONITOR
The red emergency lighting cast long, demonic shadows across the walls of the panic room.
Abigail instinctively stepped in front of Isabella, throwing her arms wide to shield the younger woman, her pregnant belly pressing against the cold steel of the door at her back.
Vincenzo stood near the emergency rations cabinet. He didn't look like a crazed killer; he looked like a tired, aging businessman. He kept the suppressed pistol aimed casually at the floor.
"I didn't want this, Abigail," Vincenzo said, his voice heavy with genuine regret. "You have to believe me. David was a good kid. I warned him to stop looking at the port ledgers. I begged him to look the other way."
"You put a bomb in his car," Abigail spat, her voice vibrating with a fierce, maternal rage. "You murdered the father of my child!"
"Sinclair gave me a choice," Vincenzo replied coldly. "Help him move his cargo, or he would hand the Feds the evidence to put Matteo away for life. I did it to protect the Romano family. David wouldn't listen. He was going to burn us all down."
Outside the steel door, a muffled, violent thud echoed. Matteo was throwing his entire body weight against the reinforced metal, roaring Vincenzo's name. But the panic room was designed to withstand a bomb blast. He wasn't getting in.
"He's going to kill you, Vincenzo," Isabella yelled, her voice cracking. "When my brother gets through that door, he will tear you apart with his bare hands."
"He won't get through the door in time, Bella," Vincenzo said sadly. "The ventilation system in this room is connected to the master override. In two minutes, the oxygen scrubbers will reverse. They'll pump carbon monoxide in. It will look like a tragic malfunction while the house was under attack."
Vincenzo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small electronic remote.
"Sinclair gets away, the flash drive burns with you, and Matteo remains safe," Vincenzo rationalized, lifting the remote. "It's the only way to protect the syndicate."
Abigail’s mind raced. She couldn't fight a man with a gun, and she couldn't outrun carbon monoxide. She needed a weapon. She needed a distraction.
Her eyes darted around the small, red-lit room. Cots. Water jugs. A first aid kit.
And resting on the small table next to the cot was the baby monitor Isabella had brought in earlier so she could listen for Abigail if she needed anything from the kitchen.
The green power light on the base unit was still glowing. It was running on battery backup.
"Vincenzo, please," Abigail pleaded, dropping to her knees, deliberately positioning herself closer to the table. She placed her hands on her belly, sobbing openly. "Please, don't do this. My baby. He's innocent. You can't kill a child."
Vincenzo hesitated. He was a hardened mob enforcer, but he wasn't a monster who enjoyed hurting pregnant women. The sight of her weeping on the floor made his finger pause on the remote.
"I'm sorry," Vincenzo whispered, looking away to avoid her eyes.
That was all the time Abigail needed.
She didn't grab the monitor. She grabbed the heavy, solid steel fire extinguisher mounted on the wall directly beneath the table.
With a surge of adrenaline fueled entirely by a mother's desperation to protect her unborn child, Abigail swung the heavy red cylinder upward with all her might.
The steel base of the extinguisher smashed directly into Vincenzo’s kneecap.
The sickening crack of bone echoed in the small room.
Vincenzo roared in pain, his leg buckling instantly. He collapsed to the floor, the pistol slipping from his grasp and skittering across the concrete.
Isabella didn't freeze. She dove for the gun, scooping it up and pointing it directly at Vincenzo’s chest with shaking hands.
"Don't move!" Isabella screamed.
Vincenzo groaned, clutching his shattered knee, blood seeping through his trousers. The remote for the ventilation system lay inches from his outstretched hand.
Abigail crawled over, snatching the remote and throwing it to the other side of the room.
She grabbed the baby monitor base unit.
"Matteo!" Abigail screamed into the microphone, praying the receiver in the hallway was still functioning. "Matteo, we have the gun! Enter the code 1114 on the keypad! The override password is David!"
Outside, the frantic pounding stopped.
Five seconds later, the electronic lock on the steel door chimed.
The heavy door hissed open.
Matteo stood in the doorway, a tactical rifle in his hands, breathing like a caged tiger. He looked at Vincenzo bleeding on the floor, then at Isabella holding the gun, and finally at Abigail, who was leaning heavily against the wall, clutching her stomach.
Matteo lowered his rifle. He walked past Vincenzo without a second glance, wrapped his arms around Abigail, and pulled her into his chest.
"I've got you," Matteo whispered into her hair. "I've got you."
Vincenzo groaned from the floor. "Matteo... listen to me... Sinclair is at the airstrip. If he leaves... he'll destroy us from the outside."
Matteo turned his head, his gray eyes devoid of any mercy.
"Sinclair isn't at the airstrip, Vincenzo," Matteo said coldly. "He never was. I tracked the GPS on the velvet box he sent. Sinclair is at his downtown penthouse, packing his bags."
Matteo looked down at his traitorous friend.
"You betrayed my family. You murdered my brother-in-law. And you tried to kill the woman who saved my sister."
Matteo took the suppressed pistol from Isabella’s shaking hands. He pointed it down at Vincenzo.
But before he could pull the trigger, Abigail let out a sudden, sharp gasp.
Her hands clamped down hard on Matteo’s arm. Her face drained of all color, contorting in sudden, blinding agony.
"Matteo," Abigail choked out, her knees buckling.
She looked down at the floor. A pool of water was rapidly spreading across the concrete around her shoes.
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The trauma, the stress, the physical exertion of swinging the fire extinguisher—it was too much.
"The baby," Abigail gasped, gripping Matteo’s shirt. "He's coming. Right now."
