Chapter 4 - The Ghost on the Balcony
The music faded into polite applause, but the easy atmosphere between them had evaporated. Berto steered her away from the dance floor with a firm grip on her elbow, guiding her through a side service door into the dimly lit, labyrinthine corridors behind the ballroom.
"Stay here," Berto ordered, pressing her back against a brick wall near the catering staging area. He pulled a heavy-caliber firearm from the holster hidden beneath his suit jacket with fluid, terrifying efficiency.
"Berto, wait—it was probably just a reporter or a bored socialite," Anna protested, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Nobody wanders up to the private service balcony tonight," he muttered, his eyes scanning the shadows above the stairwell. "Lock the side exit if anyone comes through here. Don't open this door for anyone except me."
He vanished up the metal stairs into the darkness, leaving Anna alone with the hum of industrial refrigerators and the deafening thud of her own pulse. She hated this part of his life. She could joke about the illegal trade and mock his intimidation tactics, but the reality of the violence—the bullets, the blood, the constant, breathing paranoia—was a jagged pill she swallowed every single day because she couldn't bear the thought of him walking into an ambush alone.
Ten minutes ticked by like hours. Faint sounds echoed from above—a scuffle, a muffled shout, the heavy thud of a body hitting concrete.
"Berto?" she called out, creeping cautiously toward the foot of the stairwell.
A heavy boot hit the metal landing. A figure stumbled down the steps into the dim light. It wasn't Berto.
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It was a man in a black tactical turtleneck, bleeding heavily from a gash across his forehead, holding a burner phone with its screen smashed. He locked eyes with Anna, a desperate, frantic look crossing his face.
"If you value your life, secretary," the stranger gasped, spitting blood onto the floor, "you'll run. Castiano isn't who you think he is. The feds aren't the only ones closing in."
