Chapter 8 - Ashes of the Empire
The underground escape tunnel smelled of damp earth, ancient stone, and centuries of dark history. I stumbled blindly through the narrow corridor, scraping my hands against the rough brick walls until my fingertips came away sticky with blood.
Ten minutes later, I burst out through a hidden spring-loaded exit disguised as a root cellar door behind the mansion’s sprawling greenhouse.
The cold, damp Chicago night air hit me like a physical blow. A heavy mist rolled in off Lake Michigan, wrapping the massive estate in a shroud of gray fog. In the distance, the wail of approaching sirens began to tear through the quiet stillness of the suburbs.
Federal agents.
I had managed to trigger the silent panic alarm wired into the archives before the power was cut. The FBI task force led by Agent Vance (no relation to Elena, thankfully) was already moving in to seal the perimeter.
I sprinted toward the main iron gates, clutching the pill bottle and the encrypted hard drive I had managed to salvage from the secret wall safe before the power failure.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights cut through the fog.
A sleek black sedan screeched to a halt right in front of the gates, blocking my path. The passenger door flew open.
My heart froze. I braced myself for Dante, or Vicente, or one of their hitmen come to finish the job.
Instead, a hand reached out from the interior light and grabbed my jacket, hauling me violently inside into the safety of the backseat.
The door slammed shut, and the car roared forward, tearing down the winding estate road just as a convoy of black-and-white FBI cruisers swarmed past us with flashing red and blue lights.
I spun around, panting, my back pressed hard against the door window.
Sitting in the dim light of the dashboard, wearing a heavy trench coat with his face pale, drawn, and bruised, but his dark eyes burning with unmistakable life... was Alexander Romano.
"Mr. Romano?!" I gasped, staring at him as if I were looking at a ghost. "You... you were dying! How are you—?"
Alexander slowly turned his head, a faint, wry smile touching his pale lips. He reached out and gently tapped the three-milligram pill bottle clutched in my trembling hand.
"A smart capo never takes his own medicine without checking the label first, Nina," Alexander murmured, his voice raspy but steady. "I knew Vicente and my brother were planning a coup. I just needed to know which of my inner circle was loyal enough to stand by my bed when the poison started working."
He reached across the seat and wrapped his warm, steady fingers around my bloodied wrist.
May you like
"And you," Alexander whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine through the fog and the shadows, "passed the test with flying colors."
Ahead of us, the city lights of Chicago stretched out into the endless night—waiting for the true king to reclaim his throne.
