Chapter 16 - The Manager’s Endgame
Leo looked up from the glowing laptop screen, unfazed by our sudden appearance from the secret stairwell. He adjusted his immaculate black suit jacket, a faint, condescending smile playing on his lips.
“I told you, Dominic,” Leo said smoothly, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls. “You built your house on stone, but stone crumbles when you plant the explosives deep enough.”
“Put down the detonator, Leo,” Dominic said, his voice a lethal whisper as he stepped forward, raising his pistol with absolute steadiness. “Twenty years of service down the drain for what? A seat at a table you don't have the stomach to run?”
“Service?” Leo laughed, a bitter, grating sound. “I built this organization while you were busy fighting petty turf wars in Palermo. I handled the books, the bodies, the cleanup. And you treated me like an employee who could be replaced on a whim.”
“You were my right hand,” Dominic snarled.
“I was your warden,” Leo corrected sharply, his thumb hovering inches over the red button of the detonator. “And now, your reign ends here. The gas in the upper levels has reached critical mass. One click of this button, and the entire east wing—along with every incriminating ledger in this vault—goes up in smoke.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked past Leo toward the open vault door behind him. Inside, stacked neatly on steel shelves, were rows of physical ledgers and hard drives containing every illegal transaction, every offshore account, and every name connected to the Rossi syndicate.
If Leo detonated the charges, the evidence would be gone, but so would we.
I slowly loosened my grip on the damp velvet cloth, sliding my hand into my canvas medical duffel bag. My fingers brushed past the surgical scissors, the antiseptic wash, and landed on a heavy, stainless-steel surgical retractor—a solid, five-pound instrument designed to hold open chest cavities during open-heart surgery.
“You really think you’re the smartest man in this room, Leo?” I called out, taking a deliberate step forward to draw his attention.
Leo’s eyes flicked toward me, a sneer crossing his face. “And you’re the nurse who thought she could play mob doctor. You should have taken your severance check and run, Nora.”
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“I have a terrible habit of finishing what I start,” I snapped.
In a fraction of a second, while Leo’s attention was split between Dominic’s gun and my voice, I whipped the heavy stainless-steel retractor out of my bag and hurled it like a tomahawk straight at his chest.
