Chapter 9 - THE VAULT OF SECRETS
“Stay here,” Marcus ordered, grabbing his submachine gun.
“Marcus, no! I'm coming with you!” I insisted, stepping forward.
“If they get to the vault, Maisie and I are dead anyway!”
Marcus hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded curtly.
“Fine. Stay behind me. Use the service pistol.”
He shoved a small Glock into my trembling hands.
I had never fired a gun in my life.
My fingers gripped the cold steel awkwardly as we sprinted out of the bunker and into the darkened corridors of the mansion's lower level.
Emergency red backup lights hummed weakly overhead, casting long, bloody shadows across the stone walls.
The air smelled of gunsmoke and ozone.
We reached the heavy iron doors of the basement vault.
The steel door was ajar.
Sparks showered against the floor from inside—someone was using a thermal torch to cut through the secondary locking mechanism.
Marcus raised his submachine gun, kicking the vault door wide open.
“Freeze! Drop the—!”
Before Marcus could finish, a masked figure spun around from inside the vault, firing a suppressed submachine gun.
Rat-tat-tat!
Bullets slammed into the stone wall inches from my head.
Marcus returned fire with absolute fury.
The masked gunman shrieked as a round caught him in the shoulder, tumbling backward against the metal shelving inside the vault.
Marcus rushed in, kicking the weapon away and pinning the intruder to the floor.
I stepped into the vault behind him, my heart pounding in my throat.
The scene inside was pure carnage.
Vanessa Bellini was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, a second masked operative lay dead near the back corner, and sitting huddled against the reinforced steel shelves was a terrified, gagged figure in a ruined emerald gown.
Vanessa.
Her hair was wild, her makeup smeared across her face with tears and sweat.
She was shaking uncontrollably, staring at the dead bodies around her with eyes wide with primal terror.
Marcus ripped the duct tape off her mouth.
Vanessa let out a choked, hysterical sob.
“They... they were going to kill me!” she screamed, grabbing Marcus's tactical vest.
“The syndicate! They said I outlived my usefulness! They were going to slit my throat!”
“Where are the others?” Marcus demanded, scanning the dark corners of the vault.
“There was a third one,” Vanessa wept, pointing a trembling, manicured finger toward the hidden escape tunnel at the back of the vault.
“He... he took the service tunnel toward the docks! He said he had a boat waiting!”
Marcus swore loudly.
“Boss is out in the front courtyard. He doesn't know about the escape tunnel.”
“We have to stop him,” I said, my voice cutting through the hysteria.
Vanessa looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter, burning hatred even through her tears.
“You,” she spat. “This is all your fault. If you had just stayed a quiet little housemaid—!”
“Shut your mouth, Vanessa,” Marcus barked, hauling her to her feet by her arms.
“You're going to federal prison for the rest of your natural life. Consider yourself lucky you're still breathing.”
I turned away from her, gripping the Glock tightly in my sweaty palm.
“Where does that tunnel lead?” I asked Marcus.
“Straight to the North Side river docks,” Marcus replied grimly.
May you like
“Half a mile away.”
“Then let's run.”
