Chapter 4 - The Hidden Compartment
"I won't move an inch," Marcus said, his voice as steady as an anchor in a hurricane. But I could see the sweat beading on his forehead. Two armed enforcers stood behind Vicente, their submachine guns raised and pointed directly at Marcus's chest. Crossfire in a confined bedroom meant Marcus would die instantly—and I wouldn't be far behind.
Vicente chuckled darkly, stepping closer. "You always were too loyal for your own good, Marcus. A attack dog who forgets who feeds him. Fine. Let the old man die in peace. But that safe on the wall? That belongs to the new administration."
Vicente reached out a gloved hand, grabbing the edge of the medieval tapestry and ripping it violently off the wall, exposing the heavy steel biometric keypad of the safe.
"Open it," Vicente commanded, glaring at Marcus.
Marcus didn't move. He kept his gun leveled at Vicente’s heart. "Do it yourself, Vicente. The biometric lock only responds to Alexander’s thumbprint—or mine under duress. And I promise you, if you pull that trigger, the auto-destruct protocol wipes the hard drive clean within ten seconds."
Vicente’s face contorted with rage. He stepped up to the safe, pressing his palm against the steel housing as if he could crush it through sheer willpower. "You think I'm bluffing? Leo!"
The smaller enforcer stepped forward from the doorway. As the emergency hallway light washed over his face, my breath caught in my throat.
It was Leo. Elena’s nephew. The delivery boy.
And tucked securely beneath his tactical vest was a heavy glass jar filled with clear liquid and medical tubing—rigged with a digital timer.
A remote explosive.
"If Marcus doesn't open that safe in thirty seconds," Leo said, his voice cracking with adolescent nervousness mixed with sociopathic glee, "I wire this directly into the master electrical grid junction behind the bedroom wall. The whole East Wing goes up in smoke. No evidence, no safe, no syndicate."
"You insane prick," Marcus snarled. "You'll blow up half the mansion with yourself inside it!"
"We’ve got a chopper waiting on the north lawn," Vicente smiled, looking completely unfazed. "Everything is accounted for. Except for one loose end."
Vicente’s cold, dead eyes shifted away from Marcus and locked directly onto me, still kneeling beside the dying mafia boss.
"The housemaid," Vicente whispered, drawing his silenced pistol from his holster with fluid, terrifying speed. "She saw the pill bottle. She knows the dosage was altered. We can't have loose ends wandering around the estate when the police arrive to investigate a 'tragic medical emergency'."
The black barrel of the silenced pistol swung away from Marcus and pointed straight at my forehead.
Time seemed to fracture. The grandfather clock in the hall seemed to tick in slow motion. I could hear Alexander’s shallow, ragged breathing beside me, the hum of the emergency lights, and the deafening roar of my own pulse in my ears.
"Nina, move!" Marcus screamed, lunging forward.
May you like
Bang.
A muffled, suppressed pop echoed through the bedroom.
