Chapter 8 - THE HOSTAGE
Evelyn woke up strapped to a metal chair in the museum's underground archives, her head throbbing violently. Standing over her was Celeste, her beautiful face twisted into an ugly, triumphant sneer.
"The little waitress," Celeste mocked, pacing the concrete floor. "I watched the security tapes, you know. I wondered how he knew. How he escaped the kill zone. It was you. A nobody in a cheap uniform."
"Better a nobody than a traitor," Evelyn spat back, tasting blood on her lip.
Celeste slapped her hard. "My father is upstairs taking over the city. And your precious Lorenzo walked right into our trap. We knew he'd come for the gala. We wanted him to." She pulled out a radio. "Bring the boss down here. Let’s show him what happens to his little stray."
Panic flared in Evelyn's chest. She had led Lorenzo right into a crossfire. She struggled against the zip ties, the plastic biting into her wrists. Through her earpiece, which had somehow stayed hidden in her hair, she heard the sudden, chaotic eruption of gunfire upstairs. The assault had begun.
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"Lorenzo," she whispered desperately, hoping the mic was still live. "It's a trap. They're waiting for you. I'm in the basement."
Static crackled. Then, a dark, terrifying voice replied, "I know. Cover your eyes, mia luce."
