Chapter 6 - THE MUDDY FOOTPRINT
The heat was unbearable. Flames devoured the roof of the greenhouse, raining glowing embers down on our shoulders. The smoke was thick, black, and choked the oxygen from our lungs. “Grab the base!” Luca roared, his face streaked with soot and sweat. Julian scrambled to the cast-iron urn, grabbing one side. I ran to the other. I couldn't use my fractured left hand, so I wrapped my right arm around the thick, rusty rim, pressing my entire body weight against the heavy metal. “On three!” Luca shouted, digging his boots into the dirt. “One. Two. Three. Push!” We threw our combined strength against the massive iron pot. My muscles screamed. The heat blistered my skin. With a sickening screech of metal against dirt, the three-hundred-pound urn tipped backward. It crashed onto its side. “Roll it!” Luca commanded. We pushed the heavy iron cylinder, rolling it violently across the floor directly toward the reinforced glass wall. It picked up speed, acting like a massive bowling ball. The iron urn slammed into the glass with a deafening crash. The reinforced pane held for a fraction of a second, spider-webbing violently, before finally shattering outward into the cold night air. A rush of freezing, clean oxygen flooded the burning greenhouse. “Go!” Luca yelled, shoving me toward the jagged opening. I scrambled through the broken glass, tearing my uniform skirt, but I didn't care. I hit the wet grass outside and gasped for air, coughing violently. Julian tumbled out next, collapsing onto the lawn. Luca emerged last, just as the entire glass roof of the greenhouse caved in behind him in a brilliant explosion of sparks and fire. We lay in the grass, covered in soot, breathing heavily. The roar of the fire was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the sirens that suddenly began wailing from the main estate. The security alarms had finally triggered. “The mole,” Julian wheezed, forcing himself up. “He locked us in. He’s going to warn Vanessa.” “No, he isn't,” Luca said coldly. He stood up, brushing the dirt from his ruined suit. “He thinks we’re dead. Which means Vanessa thinks she has time to escape.” We sprinted back toward the main house. The engagement party was in absolute chaos. Guests were pouring out the front doors, screaming as the flames from the greenhouse illuminated the night sky. Security guards were running in every direction, shouting orders. We slipped through the kitchen entrance, avoiding the panic. “We need to find her before she gets to a car,” Julian panicked, his eyes wild. “She won’t take a car yet,” I said, leaning against the marble counter to catch my breath. Both men looked at me. “She hasn’t finished her plan,” I explained. “She left Julian’s watch in the greenhouse to frame him. But she still needs the South Side deed. And she still has the boy.” I had just answered why Vanessa hadn’t fled the estate yet. But two new questions instantly replaced it. Where was she hiding inside a house swarming with guards? And where was Leo? I looked down at the pristine white marble floor of the kitchen hallway. Something caught my eye. A faint, reddish-brown smudge on the pristine tile. I knelt down, touching it with my good hand. It was wet. “Red clay,” I whispered. I looked up, following a trail of faint, muddy smudges leading away from the kitchen and toward the grand staircase. “She came back inside,” I said, my heart racing. “She went downstairs.” Luca followed my gaze. The staircase didn't just lead up to the bedrooms. It led down. To the subterranean wine cellar. “The cellar,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous hush. “It’s soundproof. Climate-controlled. And it has a private service elevator that exits directly into the underground garage.” Vanessa wasn’t just hiding. She was preparing to vanish entirely. “I’m going to kill her,” Julian growled, pulling a backup knife from his ankle holster. “No,” Luca grabbed Julian’s arm. “You go to the garage. Block the service elevator doors. Don’t let any cars leave. I’ll take the cellar stairs.” Julian nodded and sprinted away. Luca looked at me. “Stay here, Claire. Hide in the pantry. You’ve done enough.” I wanted to listen to him. I really did. But the thought of a five-year-old boy sitting in the dark, terrified, with a woman who had just tried to burn us alive, made my blood boil. I waited until Luca disappeared down the staircase. Then, I followed him. I crept down the spiraling stone steps, the air growing instantly cooler. The smell of aged oak and expensive vintage wine filled the corridor. I peeked around the heavy iron gate at the bottom of the stairs. The cellar was massive, lined with thousands of bottles stretching into the shadows. Standing at the far end, near the metal doors of the service elevator, was Vanessa. She had changed out of her red silk gown and was wearing dark tactical clothes. She held a black duffel bag over her shoulder. And standing next to her, clutching a stuffed bear and crying softly, was a little boy. Leo. “Shut up,” Vanessa hissed at the boy, yanking his small arm roughly. “The elevator is coming.” Suddenly, Luca stepped out from behind a towering wine rack, directly into her path. He held his gun aimed squarely at her chest. “The only place you’re going, Vanessa, is a very deep, very dark hole.” Vanessa froze. She looked at Luca, covered in soot, alive, and realizing her entire plan had just burned to the ground. But she didn't scream. She didn't beg. She smiled. “I wouldn’t pull that trigger, Luca,” Vanessa purred. She reached behind her back. She didn't pull out a gun. She pulled out a small, black detonator switch, her thumb resting heavily on the red button.
