Chapter 7 - The Chase in the Mist
"This way!" Marcus shouted, dragging me blindly through the pitch-black labyrinth of the master suite.
Behind us, the bedroom erupted into chaos. Shouts echoed in the dark, followed by the deafening roar of suppressed automatic gunfire chewing through the antique walls and shattering mahogany furniture.
"The secret passage behind the wardrobe!" I gasped, remembering the architectural blueprints I had memorized during my first week working as an archivist-turned-maid in the mansion.
"You know about the vault tunnels?" Marcus grunted as we collided with the heavy oak wardrobe in the dark.
"Push the third panel on the left!" I cried out, slamming my weight against the carved wood.
With a heavy, mechanical groan, the entire back panel of the wardrobe swung inward, revealing a narrow, dust-filled stone staircase descending deep into the foundations of the mansion.
Before we could dive inside, a blinding beam of tactical light cut through the dark bedroom, pinning us in its crosshairs.
"Stop right there!" Dante’s voice roared from across the room.
Footsteps pounded toward us. We could hear the heavy boots of Dante's enforcers closing the distance in seconds.
"Go! Now!" Marcus shoved me violently down into the dark stone stairwell, pulling his gun and turning to face the oncoming onslaught in the doorway.
"Marcus, no! You'll be killed!" I screamed from the shadows.
"Save the ledger, Nina!" Marcus shouted over the rising din of gunfire. "Tell the federal task force that the Romano empire dies tonight!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sharp cracks of Marcus’s pistol echoed up the stairwell, answered immediately by a devastating wall of enemy fire.
Sobbing, I pulled the heavy stone panel shut from the inside, plunging myself into absolute, suffocating darkness as the sounds of war faded behind the reinforced masonry wall.
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I was alone.
Armed only with a three-milligram pill bottle, a bleeding mafia boss left behind in the burning bedroom, and the dark secrets of the most powerful criminal syndicate in America hidden in my trembling hands.
