Chapter 8 - The Night of Smoke
It happened at 2:15 AM.
Matteo was working in his study when the subtle, high-pitched hum of the estate’s secondary perimeter alarm buzzed once—a silent alert triggered by a tripped infrared beam near the western perimeter wall.
Not a gunshot. Not an explosion. Just a quiet intrusion.
Matteo drew his Beretta from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber with a smooth, practiced click. He turned off the desk lamp and stepped out into the dark hallway.
From the north wing, a faint smell drifted up the stairs: woodsmoke.
Fire.
Matteo didn't hesitate. He sprinted down the corridor, his boots pounding against the hardwood floors. When he reached the north wing, the heavy oak door to Elena’s suite was smoldering at the frame. Someone had jammed a chemical incendiary pack into the outer lock—not to burn the house down, but to force them out into the courtyard where a snatch squad was waiting.
Matteo kicked the door open with a single, violent blow of his boot.
Inside, the room was filled with thick, acrid gray smoke. Elena was coughing violently, frantically trying to smother a blaze near the doorway with a wet blanket.
"Get down!" Matteo roared, grabbing Elena by the shoulder and shoving her behind him.
He raised his pistol, scanning the smoke-filled bedroom. Through the haze, the sliding glass door leading to the garden patio had been smashed open from the outside. Cold autumn night air rushed into the room, swirling the ash.
"Where is the child?" Matteo demanded, his voice cracking with a terrifying panic.
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"She... she was sleeping in the cot—" Elena gasped, choking on the smoke. "She’s gone!"
Matteo didn't wait. He vaulted through the shattered glass door into the dark, misty garden, disappearing into the nebbiolo vineyards like a ghost driven by fury.
