Chapter 7 - THE SIEGE
"Mommy!" Chloe shrieked as the massive steel shutters crashed down, blocking out the morning sun. The heavy metallic clatter echoed through the mansion like a prison door slamming shut.
"Run!" I screamed, scooping her into my arms.
I didn't know where to go. The estate was massive, a maze of hallways and luxury rooms, but I remembered one thing James had told me the night before. If the sirens ever sound, go to the basement wine cellar. There is a steel door behind the third rack. It locks from the inside.
Gunfire erupted from the courtyard outside, muffled but terrifyingly rapid. I prayed James was still alive.
I sprinted down the main hallway, my socks slipping on the polished hardwood floors. Heavy boots pounded on the stairs above me. Vincent’s men were sweeping the house.
"Find the girl!" a voice barked from the second-floor landing.
I threw open the door to the basement and scrambled down the wooden steps, taking them two at a time in the dark. The wine cellar was freezing, smelling of damp earth and old oak. I dragged Chloe past rows of dusty bottles, counting the racks.
One. Two. Three.
I shoved the heavy wooden rack sideways. It swung open on hidden hinges, revealing a heavy steel door with a keypad. I panicked—James hadn't given me a code! But the light on the panel was green. It was unlocked.
I hauled the heavy door open, pushed Chloe inside, and threw my weight against the steel to close it. The lock engaged with a heavy thud.
The panic room was small, lit by emergency red lighting. It contained a cot, a first-aid kit, a monitor displaying camera feeds from around the house, and a small metal lockbox on a desk.
"Are the bad men coming?" Chloe whispered, her whole body shaking.
"No, baby, we're safe here," I lied, pulling her into my lap on the floor.
I stared at the security monitors. The courtyard camera was shattered. The hallway cameras showed men in tactical gear pacing with rifles.
Then, my eyes drifted to the metal lockbox on the desk. It was open. Inside was a ledger, a stack of cash, and a small velvet pouch. The pouch had spilled over.
Laying on the steel desk was a tarnished silver rosary.
I stopped breathing. I reached out and touched the beads. The crucifix was unique—the right arm of the cross was slightly bent, the silver warped by heat.
It was my mother's rosary.
She had worn it every day of her life until the winter of 1994, when a fire broke out in a tenement building downtown. She had rushed in and dragged a teenage boy out of the flames, losing her coat in the process and warping her rosary in the heat. She gave the rosary to the boy in the ambulance to keep him calm.
The boy she saved wasn't just a hungry child on the street. It was James.
BOOM.
The entire basement shook. Dust fell from the ceiling.
I looked at the monitor. Vincent was standing outside the wine cellar, holding a shotgun. He pumped it and blew the lock off the basement door.
"I know about the panic room, Grace!" Vincent's voice echoed through the thick steel. "There's no other way out down here. Open the door, and I'll make it quick for you. Keep it locked, and I'll burn this house to the foundation!"
I backed away from the door, shielding Chloe with my body.
BOOM. He shot the keypad, destroying the electronic lock.
The heavy steel door groaned and slowly swung open.
Vincent stood in the doorway, the shotgun aimed directly at my chest. He smiled, a twisted, ugly look of triumph. "Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just business."
He placed his finger on the trigger.
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Suddenly, a massive, blood-soaked shadow stepped out of the darkness behind him.
Before Vincent could pull the trigger, James Moretti wrapped a heavy piano wire around Vincent's throat and violently jerked him backward into the dark.
