Chapter 8 - THE PANIC ROOM AND THE SILK TIE
The video ended, leaving me paralyzed behind the concrete pillar.
Victoria had escaped. She had bypassed ten armed guards and breached the panic room.
“Roman,” I gasped, shoving the phone into his hands.
Roman watched the video. The victorious smile on his face vanished, replaced by sheer panic. His daughter and my brother were seconds away from being executed by a grieving, unhinged heiress.
Gunfire chipped the concrete above our heads. Marcus’s remaining two mercenaries were advancing, using the deafening noise of the passing freight train to cover their approach.
“We have to get back to the estate,” I cried.
“We can’t outrun bullets,” Roman said grimly.
Roman checked his magazine. Three rounds left. He looked at me, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute trust.
“Claire, take the drive,” Roman said, pressing the USB into my palm.
“What? No, I can’t—”
“Take it,” he commanded. “When the train passes, I am going to step out and draw their fire. You run to the SUV. Drive to the estate. Give Victoria the drive to save your brother and my daughter.”
“What about you?” I demanded.
“I’ll hold Marcus here,” Roman said. “I’m not losing my family again.”
The roar of the freight train suddenly died down as the last car rushed past. The station fell eerily quiet, save for the clicking of the mercenaries' boots approaching our pillar.
Roman didn’t give me time to argue. He kissed my forehead, a gesture of profound gratitude, and stepped out from behind the pillar.
“Marcus!” Roman shouted, firing his last three rounds.
The mercenaries returned fire.
I didn’t look back. I sprinted down the platform in the opposite direction, my boots slamming against the tiles. I heard Marcus yelling orders, but the gunfire was focused entirely on Roman.
I burst through the station doors, ran to the SUV, and threw myself into the driver’s seat. I had never driven a car this powerful, but adrenaline took over. I floored the accelerator, tearing through the wet city streets toward the DeLuca estate.
My heart pounded against my ribs. I had the flash drive. The only piece of evidence that could destroy Uncle Marcus and avenge Roman’s lost love. But I had to trade it to Victoria to save Sam and Rose.
I skidded up the gravel driveway of the mansion.
The front doors were wide open. Silas and three guards were lying unconscious on the marble floor of the foyer. Victoria had drugged them.
I bypassed them, sprinting down the hallway toward the basement panic room.
The heavy steel door was propped open.
I rushed in.
Victoria was pacing in front of the security monitors, her red satin gown torn, her makeup smeared with tears and rage.
Tied to two steel chairs were Sam and Rose. Sam had a fresh bruise on his cheek, shielding Rose as best as he could.
“Where is he?” Victoria shrieked, aiming the gun at my chest as I entered. “Where is Roman?”
“He’s not coming,” I lied, holding my hands up. “I have the drive. Let them go, Victoria.”
I held out the black USB drive.
Victoria laughed, a hollow, broken sound. “You think I care about the evidence anymore? Roman humiliated me. He killed my father. He ruined my life for a bastard child!”
She pointed the gun directly at Rose’s head.
“No!” Sam yelled, straining against his ropes.
“I’m going to make him feel exactly what I feel,” Victoria sneered, her finger tightening on the trigger.
I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t have Roman’s muscle or Silas’s training. But I had spent a year cleaning this house. I knew every inch of it.
I looked at the steel desk beside Victoria. Resting on the edge was a heavy, marble bookend I had dusted every Tuesday for a year.
“Victoria, wait!” I shouted. “The drive is a fake!”
Victoria hesitated, turning her head toward me for a split second.
That was all I needed.
I threw the USB drive directly at her face. As she flinched to bat it away, I dove across the room, grabbed the heavy marble bookend, and swung it upward with all my strength.
The marble cracked against Victoria’s wrist.
She screamed, dropping the gun. It clattered across the steel floor.
I didn’t stop. I tackled her to the ground, pinning her arms. Victoria thrashed wildly, her long nails scratching my face, but I held on, driven by the absolute need to protect my brother.
“Sam, get the gun!” I yelled.
Sam had managed to wiggle one hand free. He lunged for the weapon, scooping it up and pointing it awkwardly but firmly at Victoria.
“Don’t move,” Sam panted, his hands shaking.
Victoria stopped fighting. She lay on the floor, weeping in defeat.
I crawled off her, exhausted, and untied Rose. The teenager fell into my arms, sobbing.
“You’re safe,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “It’s over.”
But as I stood up to check on Sam, the heavy steel door of the panic room slammed shut behind us.
The electronic lock beeped, turning from green to red.
We were locked inside.
A voice crackled through the panic room’s intercom system.
“Very impressive, Claire,” Uncle Marcus’s voice echoed into the room. “You saved the kids. But you trapped yourself in a steel box.”
My blood ran cold. If Marcus was here, where was Roman?
“I have the drive now,” Marcus laughed through the speaker. “And I’ve just triggered the estate’s gas leak protocol. In five minutes, this house goes up in flames. Goodbye, kids.”
I looked at the heavy steel door. There was no handle on the inside.
But as I looked down at Victoria’s discarded belongings on the floor, I saw something strange sticking out of her purse.
It was a black silk tie.
May you like
Roman’s silk tie. The one he had been wearing when he left for the train station.
And wrapped inside the tie was a thick block of C4 plastic explosive, wired with a detonator.
