Chapter 4
Shards of glass rained across the polished hardwood floor. I screamed and threw my hands over my head. The sharp crystal fragments scattered around my shoes. The gloved hand twisted the deadbolt with a loud, mechanical click. The heavy oak door swung wide open. A gust of cold autumn wind rushed into the room. Standing in the doorway was a man in a black tactical turtleneck and dark trousers. He wore a silver skull mask. A silenced pistol was held level in his right hand. He stepped over the broken glass with chilling grace. I backed away until my lower back hit the edge of the dining table. My breath came in ragged, terrified gasps. Teresa stirred in her chair. “Who… who is there?” the old woman mumbled, her eyes blinking sleepily. “Stay down, Mrs. Moretti!” I shouted, my voice cracking. The masked man didn’t look at Teresa. His eyes—cold, dead eyes visible through the mask's slits—were locked entirely on me. “Where is the flash drive?” the man asked. His voice was deep, altered by a digital modulator. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I stammered, my hands shaking behind my back. “Don’t play games with me, little maid,” the man stepped forward. The black pistol barrel caught the chandelier light, gleaming wickedly. “Sofia dropped a flash drive in this room twenty minutes ago. Give it to me, and you live. Refuse, and you join Catherine.” My mind raced. Sofia had dropped a flash drive? When did she—ah. When she tossed the pocket watch onto the fruit bowl, a small black square had slipped from her coat pocket and skittered under the edge of the rug. It was right beside my left heel. I could feel the hard plastic edge pressing against the side of my shoe through my stocking. If I moved, he would see it. If I didn't move, he would find it anyway. “I told you, I haven’t seen anything!” I lied, keeping my voice as steady as possible. The masked man tilted his head. “You’re a terrible liar, Hannah.” He raised the gun, pointing it directly at my chest. “Let’s see if your blood tells a better story.” Teresa suddenly sat straight up in her chair. Her weakness vanished in a flash of maternal fury. “Leave her alone, you coward!” the 78-year-old woman yelled. She grabbed a heavy silver gravy boat from the side table. And hurled it with surprising strength.Clang! The heavy silver vessel struck the masked man squarely in the shoulder. He stumbled sideways, his aim thrown off by a few inches. “Now, Hannah! Run!” Teresa screamed. I didn’t wait a second. I lunged to the side, dropping to my knees. My fingers swept across the rug. I grabbed the tiny black flash drive just as the man regained his balance. He cursed loudly, swinging the pistol back toward me. “Bitch!” he snarled. I scrambled under the mahogany dining table, crawling as fast as I could toward the service pantry doors at the far end of the room.Bang! A silenced gunshot punched a hole through the wood of the table just inches above my head. Splinters rained down on my back. “Hannah!” Teresa cried out. I kicked open the pantry door and threw myself inside. The pantry was dark, smelling of aged wine and polished silver. I slammed the heavy door shut and slid the brass latch into place.Thud! Thud! Thud! The masked man slammed his body against the door. “Open this door or I’ll burn this entire mansion to the ground with the old woman inside!” he roared. My heart stopped. Not Teresa. She couldn't escape a fire. I stood in the dark pantry, my hands clutching the tiny flash drive. I looked around frantically. There was no second exit. Just shelves of crystal glassware and expensive wine bottles. The door groaned as the man struck it again with a heavy shoulder block. The brass latch bent under the pressure. It was only going to hold for another ten seconds. I grabbed a heavy bottle of 1982 Bordeaux wine from the shelf. I held it high above my head, positioning myself right beside the door frame.Crack! The brass latch snapped in half. The door flew open with explosive force. The masked man stepped into the dark pantry, his pistol raised. I brought the heavy wine bottle down with all my remaining strength.SMASH! The bottle shattered across the top of his skull. Red wine and glass shards exploded everywhere. The man staggered backward, emitting a muffled grunt of pain. He dropped his pistol. It clattered across the tiled floor. He fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding head. I didn't wait to see if he would get back up. I bolted past him, bursting back into the dining room. The dining room was empty. Teresa’s chair was vacant. Her navy coat lay abandoned on the floor. “Mrs. Moretti?!” I screamed, panic surging through my veins. No answer. The French doors leading out to the back patio were wide open. Snow was beginning to fall outside, dusting the dark lawn. I ran toward the open doors, clutching the flash drive tightly in my fist. I stepped out onto the cold stone patio. The wind bit sharply into my skin. Footprints in the fresh snow led away from the house toward the old greenhouse. And in the middle of the snowy yard, lying face down in the white powder, was Teresa’s navy coat. Beside it was a small puddle of dark crimson blood. CLIFFHANGER: As I ran toward the blood-stained coat in the snow, a pair of headlights suddenly flashed on, illuminating the yard and revealing Luca’s black car crashed against the oak tree with the driver’s door hanging wide open.
