Chapter 9 - THE CATACOMBS OF BETRAYAL
Automatic gunfire shredded the concrete pillar inches from my face.
Sparks showered over my hair like a lethal golden rain.
“Down!” Luca screamed, tackling me to the dusty concrete floor.
Bullets hammered the metal floorboards in a deafening, rhythmic roar.
“They’ve got us pinned!” I shouted over the noise, pressing my palms against my ears.
Luca didn't hesitate.
He whipped a tactical smoke grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with his teeth, and hurled it toward the entrance.
*Hiss.*
Thick white smoke billowed instantly, blinding the approaching guards in a choking fog.
“Grab my belt!” Luca commanded, dragging me upward.
We scrambled through a side exit just as a dozen assault rifle bursts chewed up the spot where we had been lying a second earlier.
We burst out into the freezing night air behind the warehouses, stumbling down a steep concrete ramp leading toward the old drainage canals beneath the docks.
“Down here!” Luca pulled open a heavy iron grate leading into the subterranean storm drains.
We scrambled inside just as heavy boots thundered down the ramp above us.
Water rushed around our combat boots in the dark, icy and ankle-deep.
We sloshed through the narrow concrete tunnel for what felt like miles, the sound of pursuing guards echoing faintly behind us in the echoing pipe network.
Finally, Luca stopped beside a rusted ladder leading up to a maintenance hatch.
He pushed the hatch open.
Fresh, cold air rushed in.
We pulled ourselves out into the abandoned rail yard behind the shipping terminal.
I collapsed against the side of a rusted boxcar, gasping for oxygen, my chest burning from exertion.
Luca knelt beside me, his hand gently resting on my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“I... I think so,” I panted, clutching the red binder tightly against my chest.
“I got the master ledger, Luca.”
He looked down at the binder in my hands, a grim smile touching his lips.
“This little book contains every offshore account Vincenzo owns.”
He stood up, pulling me to my feet.
“With this, we don't just destroy his business empire. We put him behind bars for the rest of his life.”
Suddenly, the harsh beam of a high-intensity spotlight blinded us from the end of the rail siding.
Heavy footsteps surrounded us from every direction.
“Don't move!” a familiar, icy voice echoed through the rail yard.
We turned.
Standing at the center of the armed circle was Vanessa Bellini.
She wore a sleek white wool coat, holding a polished chrome revolver aimed directly at Luca’s chest.
Behind her stood her father, Vincenzo Bellini, flanked by a dozen heavily armed mercenaries.
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“Well, well, well,” Vanessa sneered, her eyes gleaming with psychotic delight.
“The mafia boss and his little cleaning maid playing Bonnie and Clyde.”
