Chapter 15 - Breaking the Vault
“There’s no exit from the study,” Dominic said, pulling me toward the massive oak bookshelves lining the back wall. “Except for one.”
With a strength born of pure adrenaline, Dominic shoved against the heavy mahogany shelving unit loaded with centuries-old leather-bound volumes. With a grinding screech of metal against stone, the entire bookcase swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow stone staircase descending into freezing, subterranean gloom.
“Move!” Dominic ordered, pushing Elena ahead of us down the steps.
I slipped in right behind them, pulling the bookcase partially shut behind us just as the heavy wooden doors of the study gave way to an explosive blast from the hallway. The shockwave rattled our teeth, showering the entrance with splinters and smoke.
We descended into the pitch-black darkness of the old wine cellar, the damp smell of aged oak and stone replacing the lemon polish of the upper floors. My tactical flashlight cut a bright, narrow beam through the dust motes, guiding our way down the spiral staircase.
“Where does this lead?” I asked, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps through the damp velvet cloth.
“To the old estate vaults,” Dominic said, leading the way with his Sig Sauer raised. “Where my grandfather stored contraband and family records before the modern syndicate was formalized. Leo won’t expect us down here because he thinks the security grid locked every bulkhead.”
“And if he’s waiting for us at the bottom?” Elena whimpered, clutching my arm.
“Then he’ll find out why they call me the King of the North,” Dominic replied coldly.
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We reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, stepping into a cavernous underground chamber lined with stone arches and rusted iron racks that had long since been emptied of wine bottles. In the center of the room stood a massive, circular steel vault door bearing the Rossi family crest—and beside it, illuminated by the pale green glow of a laptop screen, stood Leo.
He wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a detonator.
