Chapter 7 - THE SERVANT'S PASSAGE
The muzzle flash of the submachine gun illuminated the grand foyer in terrifying, strobe-like bursts of yellow light. Deafening gunfire shattered the quiet, the bullets ripping through the heavy oak front doors and exploding the marble floor exactly where Luca had been standing a fraction of a second before. But the darkness had saved us. The moment I threw the master breaker, Luca had tackled all three of us—Caroline, Leo, and me—hard to the floor, rolling us behind the massive, solid stone base of a Roman column near the coat closet. “Stop shooting, you idiot, you can't see anything!” Vanessa shrieked from the stairs, the sound of falling plaster raining down around them. The gunfire abruptly stopped, leaving a heavy, ringing silence in my ears, punctuated only by the harsh smell of cordite and dust. “Are you hit?” Luca whispered urgently in the dark, his large hands frantically checking Leo, then Caroline, then me. “We’re okay,” I breathed, pulling Leo tightly against my chest. The little boy was burying his face in my apron, trembling violently. Caroline was completely frozen in shock, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “They have night vision in the armory. If Marco gets to it, we’re dead,” Luca whispered, his voice grim. He tightened his grip on his silver knife. “I’m going to rush the stairs. It’s a suicide run, but it will buy you ten seconds. Emily, take them out the back door and run to the woods.” “No!” I whispered fiercely, grabbing his arm. “That’s exactly what they want. They’re blocking the main exits. We don't have to go out.” Luca frowned in the dark. “What do you mean?” “I know this house better than anyone,” I told him, my heart hammering. “Mrs. Bellini made me memorize every inch of it. There’s an old servant’s passage behind the library fireplace. It was built during Prohibition. It leads straight down to the wine cellar, and from there, into the underground garage.” Luca’s eyes widened slightly in the dim moonlight filtering through the shattered windows. “The garage. My armored SUV is down there.” “Exactly,” I said. “But we have to move now before their eyes adjust to the dark.” “Do it,” Luca ordered. I took Caroline by the hand and hoisted Leo onto my hip. Despite being twenty-five and exhausted, the sheer adrenaline pumping through my veins made the boy feel light as a feather. “Stay low, follow the wall,” I whispered. We crawled on our hands and knees, moving silently away from the column and slipping into the long hallway that led to the west wing. Behind us, I heard Marco’s heavy boots descending the marble stairs. “Spread out,” Marco growled. “They couldn't have gone far. Check the drawing room.” We moved as fast as we could in the pitch black. My hands traced the familiar wainscoting of the hallway. I knew exactly where the antique side tables were, exactly where the floorboards squeaked, and exactly how many steps it took to reach the heavy mahogany doors of the library. I pushed the doors open, slipping inside with Caroline, Leo, and Luca right behind me. The library was massive, smelling of old paper and leather. At the far end stood an enormous, ornate stone fireplace. “Over here,” I whispered, guiding them to the hearth. I reached inside the cold, empty fireplace. I felt along the soot-stained brick until my fingers brushed against a small, iron lever hidden in the mortar. I pulled it hard. With a deep, grinding groan, the entire back wall of the fireplace swung inward on hidden hinges, revealing a narrow, pitch-black tunnel smelling of dust and stale air. “Get in,” I urged. Caroline hesitated, her amnesia-addled mind struggling with the sheer terror of the dark hole. “I can't,” she whimpered, backing away. “Caroline, please,” Luca pleaded, his voice breaking. He reached out and gently touched her face. “I know you don't remember me. But I swear on my life, I will protect you. Just trust Emily.” Caroline looked at me. Then, she looked at the little boy resting on my hip. She nodded slowly, stepping into the dark passage. Luca followed, pulling the heavy stone door shut behind us just as the library doors burst open in the main room. “They’re not in here!” Vanessa’s muffled voice echoed through the stone. We were safe. For a moment. I set Leo down, holding his hand as I led them down the steep, narrow stone spiral staircase. It was pitch black, and we had to move slowly, feeling our way with our hands against the damp brick walls. “Emily,” Luca whispered from behind me in the dark. “How did you know about this passage? I’ve lived in this house for ten years and never knew it was here.” “Mrs. Bellini fired the last maid for finding it,” I answered quietly. “I found the architectural blueprints in the attic when I was cleaning. I memorized them just in case I ever needed a place to hide when she got angry.” Luca fell silent, the weight of how horribly his fiancée had treated his staff finally crashing down on him. We reached the bottom of the stairs. I pushed open a wooden door, and we stepped into the cavernous, climate-controlled wine cellar. Rows upon rows of expensive vintages lined the walls. At the far end of the cellar was a heavy steel door that led directly into the underground garage. “The SUV is armored,” Luca said, his voice returning to a steady, commanding tone. “Bulletproof glass. Run-flat tires. Once we’re inside, Marco can empty his entire clip into it and it won't make a dent. We drive straight through the garage doors and don't look back.” He pushed past me, stepping up to the heavy steel door. He grabbed the handle and yanked it open. The garage was brightly lit with fluorescent overhead lights. Sitting in the center of the polished concrete floor was a massive, black, military-grade SUV. Freedom was twenty feet away. Luca stepped into the garage. Caroline and Leo followed. I was the last one to step through the door. But as I walked into the bright light, a cold, hard circle of steel pressed directly against the back of my head. “Don't move a muscle, Emily.” The voice sent a paralyzing jolt of ice down my spine. I froze. Luca spun around, his silver knife raised, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing behind me, holding a silver revolver pressed firmly against my skull, was a man I had never seen before. He wore a sharp, expensive suit, completely out of place in a garage. But it wasn't the man that made Luca’s face turn the color of ash. It was the woman standing beside him. Vanessa. She had bypassed the stairs entirely. She knew exactly where we were going. “Did you really think I didn't know about the servant’s passage, Luca?” Vanessa laughed, holding up a small, electronic tablet. “I had thermal cameras installed in this house two years ago. I watched you crawl through the walls like rats.” Vanessa stepped forward, her red dress ruined, but her smile completely victorious. She pointed to the man holding the gun to my head. “Luca, I don't think you’ve formally met my silent partner,” Vanessa said smoothly. “The man who helped Marco move the money. The man who supplied the explosives for Caroline’s boat six years ago.” Luca stared at the man in the suit, his hands balling into fists. “Who are you?” The man smiled, cocking the hammer of the revolver against my head. “My name is Detective Harris,” the man said, revealing a shiny gold Chicago Police badge pinned to his belt. “And I’m afraid you’re under arrest for the murder of your wife, Mr. Moretti.”
