The damp air in the underground chamber turned to ice in my lungs.
Marcus.
The man who had driven us away from the police. The head of security who had sworn his life to protect the Moretti family.
He stood in the narrow tunnel, the dim light glinting off the suppressor attached to his pistol. His face was entirely devoid of emotion.
“Put the flashlight down, boss,” Marcus said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
Luca didn't move. He didn't raise his hands. He just stared at the man who had been his father’s right hand for twenty years.
“You took the ledgers,” Luca stated. It wasn't a question.
“I did,” Marcus confirmed, taking a slow step into the circular room. “Three hours ago. Before Vanessa even started searching.”
The reversal hit me hard. Vanessa wasn't the mastermind manipulating the night. She was a pawn. Marcus was playing her, just as he was playing Luca.
“Why?” Luca asked, his voice deathly calm. “I paid you a fortune. My father treated you like a brother.”
Marcus let out a short, bitter laugh. “Your father treated me like a dog, Luca. I cleaned up his messes. I buried his mistakes. And when he died, he left me nothing but a salary to protect you.”
Marcus gestured slightly with the gun toward the empty safe.
“Those ledgers are worth fifty million dollars to the federal government in asset forfeitures. But they’re worth a hundred million to the New York Commission, who want to ensure their names aren't in them before the feds see them.”
“You’re selling out the Chicago family to New York,” Luca said, his eyes darkening with a terrifying fury.
“I’m retiring,” Marcus corrected. “Vanessa gave me the perfect cover. She was so desperate to take over, she did all the dirty work. She found the location from your mother. She found the key in the maid’s apartment. I just let her think she was in control.”
Marcus looked at the red silk scarf resting inside the empty safe.
“I left her scarf here. Tomorrow, when you find the safe empty, you’ll blame her. You’ll kill her, or she’ll kill you. Either way, the Chicago syndicate tears itself apart, and I disappear to the Caymans with a hundred million dollars.”
I stood frozen near the open safe, clutching my injured arm. Marcus hadn't even looked at me. To him, I was just collateral damage. A prop in his grand play.
“And what about tonight, Marcus?” Luca asked softly. “What happens now that I’m standing here instead of Vanessa?”
Marcus’s expression hardened. “Now, the plan changes. You resisted arrest at the maid’s apartment. You fled. I tracked you down here, you pulled a weapon, and I put two bullets in your chest in self-defense.”
He raised the gun, aiming it squarely at Luca’s heart.
“Goodbye, boss.”
In that split second, I didn't think. I didn't weigh the odds.
I reacted.
I lunged forward, throwing my entire body weight against the heavy iron door of the open safe.
The massive metal door swung hard on its oiled hinges, slamming into Marcus’s gun arm just as he pulled the trigger.
Thwip.
The suppressed shot went wild, sparking violently against the stone wall inches from Luca’s head.
Marcus grunted in pain as the iron door crushed his wrist, the gun clattering to the stone floor.
Luca moved with terrifying speed. He didn't go for the gun. He drove his shoulder straight into Marcus’s chest, slamming the massive man backward into the tunnel wall.
“Run, Sophie!” Luca roared.
I didn't need to be told twice. I scrambled past the two grappling men, throwing myself into the dark tunnel, running blindly toward the wine cellar.
I could hear the brutal sounds of hand-to-hand combat echoing behind me. Flesh hitting bone. Grunts of pain. Marcus was significantly larger than Luca, but Luca fought with the savage desperation of a man who had nothing left to lose.
I burst through the false wall into the wine cellar, gasping for air. I needed a weapon. I needed help.
I ran to the nearest rack, grabbing a heavy bottle of vintage Bordeaux.
Just as I turned to run back toward the tunnel, the cellar door at the top of the stairs burst open.
Light flooded down the steps.
“Luca?” a voice called out.
It was Vanessa.
She was still wearing her red evening gown, but she was holding a small, pearl-handled revolver. Her perfect hair was disheveled, and she looked completely frantic.
She ran down the stairs, freezing when she saw me standing there with a wine bottle, my white sleeve soaked in blood.
“Where is he?” Vanessa demanded, raising the revolver, pointing it directly at my face. “Where is the vault?”
“He’s fighting Marcus,” I gasped, terrified she was going to pull the trigger. “Marcus betrayed you, Vanessa. He took the ledgers. He left your scarf in the vault to frame you.”
Vanessa’s face went chalk white.
“He took them?”
“He’s going to sell them to New York,” I said. “He’s going to let Luca kill you for it.”
The absolute betrayal shattered the arrogant mask she wore. She lowered the gun slightly, staring at the false wall leading to the tunnels.
Suddenly, a massive figure was thrown violently through the false wall, crashing into the wine racks.
Wood splintered. Glass shattered. Red wine spilled across the stone floor like blood.
It was Luca.
His face was bruised, blood pouring from a cut above his eye. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Marcus stepped through the opening a second later.
Marcus was bleeding too, but he looked enraged. He had retrieved his suppressed pistol. He aimed it down at Luca.
“Enough,” Marcus spat, his finger tightening on the trigger.
BANG.
The gunshot in the confined cellar was deafening.
But the bullet didn't hit Luca.
Marcus staggered backward, dropping his gun, a dark red stain blooming high on his right shoulder.
I whipped my head around.
Vanessa stood at the bottom of the stairs, her pearl-handled revolver smoking in her hand.
“Nobody plays me, Marcus,” Vanessa hissed, her eyes blazing with fury.
Marcus dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder, groaning in agony.
Luca didn't waste a second. He kicked Marcus’s dropped gun away, grabbing him by the collar of his suit and slamming him face-first onto the stone floor, planting his knee firmly in the traitor’s back.
The cellar went deathly quiet, save for the sound of Marcus’s ragged breathing and wine dripping from the broken racks.
Luca looked up at Vanessa.
She was still pointing the gun, but her hands were shaking. She had just shot the head of security to save the man she was trying to destroy.
“Where are the ledgers, Vanessa?” Luca asked, his voice steady despite the blood running into his eye.
“I don't know!” she cried, tears of frustration spilling over her mascara. “He was supposed to bring them to me in the study an hour ago!”
Luca looked down at Marcus. He grabbed the man’s hair, pulling his face off the stone floor.
“Where are they, Marcus?”
Marcus let out a wet, painful laugh.
“You’re too late, boss. They’re already gone.”
Luca’s eyes darkened. “Where?”
“I didn't want to carry them out through the party,” Marcus choked out, coughing up blood. “So I put them in the one vehicle leaving the estate tonight that no one would dare search.”
The blood ran cold in my veins.
I looked at Luca. The exact same horrific realization hit him at the exact same moment.
“The medical transport,” Luca whispered.
Marcus smiled, his teeth stained red.
“They’re in the wheelchair, Luca. Sewn into the seat cushion. Your mother is sitting on a hundred million dollars, and she’s locked inside a fortress you can't get into.”
The silence in the wine cellar was suffocating, broken only by the steady drip, drip, drip of vintage Bordeaux pooling on the stone floor.
