Chapter 6 - The Rabbit on the Stairs
“Yes. It was hard. I hid it in Mr. Bunny.”
Adriano stared at his daughter’s hands, translating the signs in his head. His eyes snapped toward the security monitors. One of the surviving cameras pointed directly down the grand staircase.
There, resting innocently on the third marble step, was the pink stuffed rabbit.
“It’s on the stairs,” Adriano breathed, running a hand through his dark hair. “The ledger that can destroy my entire family, the only reason the Rossis are inside my house, is sitting in a toy on the staircase.”
The radio crackled again. “I’m waiting, Adriano,” Elena warned. “My men are rigging C4 to the panic room door. You have three minutes before I cook you all alive.”
“She’s bluffing,” Adriano said, though his eyes remained fixed on the steel door. “She needs the chip intact. An explosion might destroy it.”
“We can’t risk it,” I said, my voice shaking. “If they find the rabbit, they’ll have what they want, and they’ll kill us anyway to leave no witnesses.”
I looked up at the ceiling of the panic room. A small, square ventilation grate sat in the corner, covered in dust.
“Where does that vent go?” I asked.
Adriano followed my gaze. “It drops into the coat closet in the main foyer. It’s an emergency air supply.”
“The closet is directly beneath the stairs,” I said, stepping onto the cot and reaching for the grate. “I can fit. I can get the rabbit and get back before they even know I’m there.”
“Absolutely not,” Adriano grabbed my arm, pulling me down gently. “I am not sending a twenty-six-year-old civilian into a hallway full of armed hitmen.”
“You can’t fit, Mr. Falcone,” I argued, staring him dead in the eye. “Your shoulders are too broad. And if you open that door, they’ll shoot you on sight. Isabella needs her father. I’m just the maid.”
“You are not just a maid, Grace,” Adriano said fiercely, his grip tightening on my arm. “You’re the only person who truly cared for my daughter when her own mother abandoned her. I won’t let you die for us.”
“I’m not going to die,” I said, pulling my apron off and tossing it aside. “I’m going to get the rabbit.”
Before he could stop me, I climbed onto the cot, popped the metal grate free, and hoisted myself into the narrow, dusty shaft. It was a tight squeeze. The metal groaned slightly under my weight, but the sounds of the men ransacking the house masked the noise.
I crawled slowly, my breath shallow. The dust burned my lungs. After twenty feet, the shaft angled downward. I slid on my stomach until I saw the faint glow of the foyer lights through the grate below me.
I peeked through the slats. The foyer was empty for the moment, though I could hear heavy footsteps in the adjacent dining room. I pushed the grate open, letting it swing down softly, and dropped into the dark coat closet.
I peeked out the cracked closet door. The pink rabbit was exactly where Isabella had left it on the third step.
I took a deep breath, slipped out of the closet, and crawled on my hands and knees toward the stairs. My fingers brushed the soft fur of the toy. I grabbed it, relief flooding my chest.
But as I turned to crawl back to the closet, the dining room doors swung open.
A man in a black tactical vest stepped into the foyer. He saw me instantly. He raised his assault rifle, aiming it directly at my chest.
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Before I could scream, a heavy thud echoed from behind him. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Standing behind him, holding a heavy marble vase, was Marco.
