Chapter 6 - The Trap is SprungSub-Level 3 of the Romano estate looked more like a high-tech laboratory than a parking garage. Six mechanics and security techs stood around the heavily battered black sedan, its trunk lid completely removed.
Enzo Marchetti stood by the empty trunk well, holding a small, black titanium flash drive between his thumb and forefinger.
He walked over to Luca and Emma, handing the drive to his boss.
"It was wedged inside one of her torn grocery paper bags," Enzo reported grimly. "Right underneath a box of pasta. Rostova’s men must have tracked the frequency of the drive’s encryption beacon. They knew it was in that car, they tracked the car to the shoulder, and when the tow truck picked it up this morning, they realized you weren't in it anymore."
Luca slipped the flash drive into his pocket. He looked at Emma, who was standing quietly with her arms crossed, her eyes burning with a mixture of fear and profound anger.
"So," Emma said coldly. "Because you're a careless billionaire who can't secure his illegal spy gear, my apartment was trashed, my mother was uprooted, and I'm currently trapped in a cartel fortress."
"It's a syndicate, not a cartel," Luca muttered defensively.
"Shut up, Luca," Elena said, stepping forward. She placed a gentle hand on Emma’s arm. "You're entirely right, dear. And for what it's worth, I'm deeply sorry. My brother is an idiot."
"I heard that," Luca said.
"Good," Elena replied without blinking. "Because we have a bigger problem. Rostova isn't just sending hit squads anymore. Look at the perimeter monitors."
She tapped a wall-mounted console. The massive screens flickered to life, showing the private access road leading up the bluff.
Six armored transport trucks—painted in matte black with no plates—were barreling past the outer security gates, blowing through reinforced bollards as if they were made of paper.
"They brought an army," Enzo whispered, reaching for his weapon.
Luca’s expression darkened into a mask of pure, unadulterated ice. He pulled a heavy Beretta from a shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket, checking the magazine with a practiced, lethal click.
"Enzo, take the eastern staircase and secure the panic room with Elena," Luca ordered.
"Like hell I'm hiding in a panic room," Elena spat, pulling a compact Glock from her designer handbag. "I helped launder the money that bought these walls, Luca. I'm helping defend them."
Luca didn't argue. He knew his sister too well. Instead, his dark eyes snapped back to Emma.
"You," he said, grabbing her hand. "With me."
"I'm not hiding!" Emma pulled her hand back. "I'm a mechanic's daughter! I know how to handle myself!"
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"You fix batteries, Emma! This is a warzone!"
Before Luca could grab her again, the heavy steel reinforced doors of the sub-level garage exploded inward in a deafening fireball of concussive force and flying shrapnel.
