Chapter 5 - THE DEAD MAN'S GAMBIT
“He’s bluffing!” Vanessa shrieked, struggling frantically against the thick plastic zip-ties biting into her wrists. “He wouldn't kill his own daughter! Dad! Dad, stop it!”
I stared at the intercom speaker on the concrete wall, my heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against my ribs.
Silvio Bellini wasn't bluffing.
A low, mechanical hum suddenly vibrated through the bunker. I looked up at the steel grated vents near the ceiling. A faint, sickeningly sweet smell began to filter into the small room.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, covering my mouth.
Silvio had triggered the emergency fire suppression system, overriding it to pump whatever toxic gas he had brought with him. He had known Luca would put his son in the panic room. He had planned for this.
“Emma, I’m scared,” Oliver cried, burying his face into my waist.
I dropped to my knees, grabbing his shoulders. “Ollie, listen to me. Take a deep breath and hold it. Don't breathe the air up high. Stay as close to the floor as you can.”
I stripped off my white housekeeper’s apron and clamped it tightly over his nose and mouth.
Vanessa was coughing now, thrashing wildly on the floor like a hooked fish. “Open the door! Open the door, you stupid maid!”
If I opened the door, Silvio’s men would take Oliver. They would use him to extort Luca, or worse, use him to force Isabella to hand over the embezzled thirty million dollars.
If I didn't open the door, we would suffocate in less than two minutes.
I looked frantically around the bunker. Weapons, ammunition, rations—none of it was useful against invisible gas.
Then, my eyes landed on the heavy, red emergency fire axe mounted in a glass case beside the door.
I didn't think. I sprinted across the room, grabbed a heavy metal flashlight from the supply table, and smashed the glass case. Shards rained down as I pulled the heavy steel axe free.
The air in the room was growing thick, a hazy fog descending from the vents. My eyes began to burn, and a violent cough tore from my throat.
“One minute, Emma,” Silvio’s raspy voice mocked over the intercom. “The boy for your life.”
I ignored him. I ran to the back wall of the bunker, directly beneath the ventilation duct. The duct was covered by a heavy steel grate, bolted into the concrete.
I swung the axe with every ounce of strength I had.
CLANG.
The heavy blade bit into the steel grate, sending a shockwave of pain up my arms, but the metal bent.
“Emma, what are you doing?!” Vanessa choked out from the floor, gasping for air.
I swung again. CLANG. And again. CLANG.
The bolts holding the grate finally sheared off, and the heavy metal cover clattered to the floor.
Behind the grate wasn't just a pipe. It was a secondary air-return shaft, barely two feet wide, leading directly up into the walls of the mansion.
“Ollie! Come here!” I yelled, my voice hoarse from the gas.
Oliver scrambled across the floor on his hands and knees, keeping the apron pressed to his face. He was crying, but he didn't freeze. He trusted me.
I hoisted him up toward the open vent.
“Crawl,” I ordered him, tears streaming down my burning face. “Don't stop until you reach the grating on the next floor. Kick it out and run to the security barracks. Don't look back.”
Oliver grabbed the edge of the vent, pulling his small body inside. “Are you coming?”
“I’m right behind you,” I lied. The vent was too small for an adult.
Oliver disappeared into the dark shaft, his small sneakers scrambling against the metal.
I fell back to the floor, the axe slipping from my numb fingers. The gas was heavy now, pressing down on me like a physical weight. My vision blurred, black spots dancing in the periphery.
Vanessa was completely still on the floor, her eyes rolled back.
I dragged myself toward the heavy steel door. If I couldn't escape, I could at least make sure Silvio didn't get what he wanted easily.
I reached up with a trembling hand and grabbed the heavy iron deadbolt.
I didn't unlock it. I jammed the broken shaft of the flashlight into the lock mechanism, effectively breaking the lock from the inside.
Nobody was getting in.
I collapsed against the cold steel, gasping for oxygen that wasn't there.
Luca, I thought, my mind drifting into a dark, terrifying abyss. I kept him safe. Go get her.
Then, the world went completely black.
CRACK.
A violent, explosive force ripped me from the darkness.
Light blinded me. Cold, clean air rushed over my face, burning my lungs in the best way possible.
I gasped, choking violently, coughing up thick saliva as someone dragged me by the arms across a marble floor.
“Emma! Stay with me! Look at me!”
I blinked, my vision slowly focusing.
I wasn't in the bunker anymore. I was lying in the middle of the staff hallway. The heavy steel door of the panic room had been completely blown off its hinges, a smoking hole in the concrete wall beside it.
Leaning over me was Adrian Moretti.
His expensive suit was ruined, covered in plaster dust and blood, holding a heavy breaching shotgun.
“Oliver?” I croaked, panic instantly seizing my chest. I tried to sit up, but my arms failed me.
“He’s safe,” Adrian said quickly, his hands shaking as he checked my pulse. “He kicked out the vent in the kitchen. Marco’s men have him secured.”
I fell back against the floor, a profound wave of relief washing over me.
Then, I looked at Adrian. The man who had confessed to helping Silvio tamper with Isabella’s car. The man who tried to steal Oliver’s inheritance.
“Why did you save me?” I rasped, coughing again.
Adrian looked back at the smoking ruins of the panic room. Two of his own security guards were dragging an unconscious Vanessa out of the gas-filled room.
“Because Silvio crossed a line,” Adrian said, his voice hard, lacking the cowardly tremor from earlier in the evening. “He tried to kill my nephew. I may be a thief, Emma, but I’m not a child killer.”
Adrian stood up, racking the slide of the breaching shotgun. He looked down at me, his eyes dark with a sudden, desperate resolve.
“Silvio is still in the house,” Adrian said. “He’s trapped in the west wing. Marco has the exits blocked, but Silvio has hostages.”
My stomach dropped. “Who?”
“The kitchen staff,” Adrian replied grimly. “He’s demanding safe passage, or he starts executing them.”
I forced myself onto my knees, my head spinning violently. “Where is Luca?”
Adrian’s expression turned utterly bleak.
“Luca isn't here,” Adrian whispered. “He took half the tactical team and went to the Bellini estate. He’s walking right into a trap.”
I grabbed Adrian’s pant leg, pulling myself up unsteadily.
“A trap?” I demanded, the ringing in my ears fading into sharp clarity. “What do you mean?”
Adrian swallowed hard. “Isabella isn't in the Bellini basement, Emma. She hasn't been there for a year.”
I stared at him, horrified. “Then where is she?”
May you like
Adrian pointed down the hallway, toward the massive, heavily fortified vault doors beneath the Moretti estate.
“Silvio moved her three days ago,” Adrian confessed, his voice breaking. “He brought her here. She’s locked in Luca’s own basement.”
