Chapter 6 - THE SUBTERRANEAN LABYRINTH
The emergency stairwell was pitch black, lit only by the faint, pulsing green glow of emergency floor strips.
Clara descended the spiral steps as fast as her six-month pregnant frame would safely allow, her hand trailing along the cold iron railing. Above her, muffled shouts and the heavy pounding of boots echoed down the stairwell shaft. They were right behind her.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, pushing through a heavy fire door into the subterranean service corridors of the Moretti compound.
The corridor was a labyrinth of concrete walls, climate-controlled server racks, and secondary storage rooms. It smelled of ozone, concrete, and damp earth.
Footsteps above. They had found the stairwell entrance.
Clara ducked into the first open doorway she passed—a backup communications and server room lined with humming mainframe racks and blinking indicator lights. She slipped behind a massive row of servers, pulling her knees up to her chest and silencing her breathing as best she could.
The heavy steel door of the server room creaked open.
Two men in black tactical gear stepped inside, their tactical flashlights cutting sweeping beams of white light across the concrete floor and humming server towers.
"Check the perimeter racks. She couldn't have gone far—she's six months pregnant, she's moving slow," the lead mercenary muttered, his boots clicking closer and closer to Clara’s hiding spot.
Clara pressed her back hard against the cool metal casing of the server rack. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain they could hear it over the hum of the cooling fans.
The beam of a tactical flashlight swept across the floor just inches from her shoes.
"Nothing over here," the second merc grunted, turning away.
"Keep looking. Boss wants her alive, but Marcus said he wouldn't mind if she lost the kid in the process. Makes the trust fund litigation much cleaner," the lead merc replied coldly.
Hearing those words ignited something deep inside Clara—a cold, terrifying fury that completely overrode her fear. They wanted to hurt her baby. They wanted to destroy the last piece of Daniel she had left, and the future she was building with Dante.
Not a chance in hell, Clara thought.
She looked down at her belt. Hanging from her hoodie pocket was her keychain—attached to which was a small, high-intensity tactical flashlight she had pocketed from the estate's medical bay.
She reached into her pocket with agonizing slowness, her fingers wrapping around the metal casing.
With a flick of her thumb, she clicked the flashlight on and hurled it hard across the length of the server room toward the far corner.
Clatter-clatter-clatter!
The flashlight bounced loudly against a metal tool chest on the opposite side of the room.
"Over there!" the lead merc shouted, snapping his rifle around and rushing toward the noise.
Clara didn't hesitate. She scrambled out from behind the server rack on the opposite side, sprinting toward the open exit door as fast as her legs could carry her.
"Hey! She's escaping!" the second merc yelled, spinning around.
He raised his weapon, aiming straight down the narrow corridor as Clara bolted through the doorway.
BANG!
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The bullet shattered the concrete doorframe inches above her head, sending a shower of gray dust across her shoulders.
Before the mercenary could squeeze off a second round, a deafening roar echoed from the main corridor ahead.
