Chapter 9 - Checkmate in the Catacombs

The escape tunnel led out into an abandoned subway maintenance shaft three blocks away. As we stumbled out into the damp subterranean air, panting and covered in soot, the distant sirens of police and rival syndicate enforcers wailed across Brooklyn.
We made it to a nondescript black sedan parked in the shadows. Dominic shoved me into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and sped off into the night just as a second team of Costa's enforcers burst out of the tunnel entrance behind us.
We drove in silence for twenty minutes, the neon lights of Manhattan blurring past the windows. My ribs were throbbing, screaming in agony from the sudden exertion, but I didn't care. We had the files.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Dominic glanced over at me, his expression a mix of fierce pride and deep, abiding devotion. He reached across the console, taking my hand in his and lacing his fingers through mine.
"Federal Plaza," Dominic said, a cold smile touching his lips. "We’re going to hand the flash drive directly to the director of the FBI's organized crime task force. Under federal protection, with our marriage certificate locked in as legal privilege. Victor Costa's empire dies tonight."
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"And us?" I asked, looking down at the gold ring gleaming on my finger.
Dominic squeezed my hand tightly. "We disappear. Together."