Chapter 5 - The Mastermind’s Trap
“You took your time, Luca,” Marcus Vance said, snapping the lighter shut. The metallic *clink* resonated sharply in the dim study.
Luca didn't flinch. He stepped out of the hidden compartment into the room, keeping his body positioned so that I remained obscured behind the wooden frame of the bookshelf. His gun remained leveled straight at Vance’s chest.
“You’re getting sloppy, Marcus,” Luca replied, his voice chillingly calm. “Invading my home while thirty high-ranking city officials are downstairs? You just signed your own death warrant with the Commission.”
Vance let out a dry, raspy laugh. He swung his feet off the desk and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished wood. In the faint ambient light, the jagged scar across his cheekbone looked like an open wound.
“The Commission?” Vance mocked. “Luca, by dawn, the Commission will be reading the coroner’s report. Tragic gas explosion at the Moretti estate during the boss’s engagement celebration. Thirty politicians, your traitorous fiancée, and you—all turned to ash. I have the city inspectors on my payroll. The narrative is already written.”
“And you?” Luca took a slow, calculated step forward. “You think you walk out of here alive?”
“I don’t just walk out, boy. I take over the rail lines, the private terminals, and every offshore shipping container bearing the Moretti crest.” Vance tilted his head, his cold eyes darting toward the open bookshelf behind Luca. “And who do we have hiding in the woodwork? Is that the clever little maid who ruined my fireworks display?”
My heart seized. Vance knew.
“Step out, girl,” Vance commanded, his hand dipping slightly toward the desk drawer. “Let me see the face of the peasant who cost me fifty million dollars.”
“Stay back, Grace,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a deadly, unmovable register. “Vance, make your move. Let's see if your draw is faster than my trigger.”
The tension in the room was so thick it felt suffocating. Two apex predators staring each other down, separated by ten feet of polished mahogany.
Then, Vance smiled. It was a sick, yellow-toothed grin.
“You always were arrogant, Luca. You think because you hold a gun, you control the room? Look at the console behind you.”
Luca didn't turn his head—he knew better than to take his eyes off Vance—but his peripheral vision caught the blinking red light on the master console mounted to the wall.
“The backup generators didn't fail on their own,” Vance purred. “I bypassed the main breaker and routed a remote frequency through the house’s auxiliary lines. The moment I press the detonator on this desk, the subterranean vault—the one where your dear security chief led all your wealthy friends and your pretty little traitor—collapses into rubble.”
A cold dread flooded my veins. Vanessa, Marco, the aldermen, the innocent catering staff—everyone who had taken shelter below was sitting directly above a secondary payload.
Luca’s knuckles whitened against the grip of his pistol. For the first time all night, I saw a flicker of genuine rage flash behind his eyes.
“You rigged the foundation,” Luca said.
“Six months ago, when your security contractor replaced the HVAC systems,” Vance said triumphantly. “Did you really think Vanessa was my only inside operative? You’re surrounded by snakes, Moretti. And tonight, the garden burns.”
Vance’s hand rested on a heavy black remote sitting beside the monitor.
“Drop the piece, Luca,” Vance ordered. “Drop it, or I press this button and turn your entire legacy into a mass grave.”
Luca hesitated. His jaw locked. If he fired, Vance’s dying reflex would crush the detonator. If he dropped the gun, Vance would execute us both on the spot.
It was a stalemate designed to end in slaughter.
From my position in the narrow crawlway, I looked around desperately. My eyes caught the heavy brass floor lamp standing just outside the threshold of the bookshelf, right behind where Vance sat facing Luca.
The cord ran along the baseboard, plugged into the surge protector beneath the desk.
I didn't think about the danger. I didn't think about my place as a maid, or the fact that these men traded in blood and violence for a living. I only knew that Luca Moretti had dispatched his best men to save my mother’s life, and I was not going to watch him die.
Silently, I slipped my shoes off.
I stepped out of the crawlway onto the thick Persian rug. Luca saw me move in the reflection of the dark windowpane, but he didn't twitch an eye, keeping Vance's full attention locked on his pistol.
“You think killing them saves your empire, Vance?” Luca spoke, his voice intentionally loud, drawing every ounce of Vance’s focus. “The Commission knows you've been bleeding cash. You’re drowning in debt to the Eastern syndicates. This isn't an expansion. It’s a desperate suicide run.”
“Shut your mouth!” Vance snarled, leaning further over the desk, his finger hovering millimeters above the detonator switch. “You don't know a damn thing about my operations!”
I reached the lamp.
May you like
With all the strength in my body, I grabbed the heavy brass pole and swung it like a baseball bat.
---
