Chapter 12 - THE FINAL ESCAPE
Vincent tackled Clara and Sophie to the marble floor just as Carmine frantically tried to throw the charred wedding ring away.
But it was too late.
The microscopic tracker Vincent had secretly activated in the elevator shaft sent its signal.
A massive, concussive BOOM ripped through the foundation of the mansion.
It wasn't enough C4 to bring the entire estate down—Silas hadn't finished planting it all—but it was enough to detonate the structural pillars directly beneath the grand foyer.
The marble floor groaned and violently collapsed downward.
Carmine and a dozen of his Commission enforcers screamed as the floor beneath them simply vanished, plunging them twenty feet into the darkness of the subterranean wine cellar in a cascade of shattered marble and dust.
Because Vincent had tackled Clara and Sophie near the reinforced load-bearing wall of the hallway, the floor beneath them held.
A thick cloud of white dust choked the air. The grand foyer was completely destroyed, a gaping crater separating Vincent from the few remaining Commission enforcers who hadn't fallen.
“Move!” Vincent coughed, pulling Clara and Sophie to their feet.
The surviving enforcers on the other side of the crater were disoriented, coughing blindly into the dust. They fired their weapons wildly into the smoke, the bullets chipping the walls high above Vincent’s head.
Vincent didn't return fire. He grabbed Clara’s hand, scooped Sophie up under his other arm, and sprinted down the narrow servant’s corridor toward the rear of the estate.
“Where are we going?!” Clara yelled over the chaos. “The whole house is surrounded by Carmine’s men outside!”
“My father didn't just build a panic room, Clara!” Vincent shouted, kicking open the heavy wooden door to the estate’s massive greenhouse. “He built a way out!”
They rushed into the humid, glass-domed greenhouse. The storm outside lashed against the glass panes, illuminated by flashes of lightning.
Vincent ran to a massive, ancient stone fountain in the center of the room. He didn't hesitate. He waded directly into the knee-deep water, shoving a heavy stone gargoyle aside.
Beneath the statue was a rusted iron grate.
Vincent hauled the grate open, revealing a dark, rushing pipe of water.
“The estate’s drainage system,” Vincent explained rapidly. “It runs straight beneath the perimeter walls and empties into the lake, a mile past the property line. The water is cold, but it’s fast. We ride it out.”
Clara looked into the pitch-black, rushing water. It looked like a death trap. But the sound of heavy boots crashing through the servant’s corridor behind them made the decision for her.
“I’ll go first,” Clara said bravely. She took Sophie from Vincent, hugging the terrified little girl tightly. “Hold your breath, baby. Like a waterslide.”
Clara jumped into the dark pipe.
The freezing water hit her like a physical blow, instantly sweeping her into the darkness. She held Sophie fiercely against her chest, the rushing water carrying them terrifyingly fast through the underground aqueduct.
Seconds later, a massive splash sounded behind them. Vincent had followed.
They slid through the absolute blackness for what felt like an eternity, the roar of the water echoing in their ears. Clara’s lungs burned, the freezing temperature numbing her limbs.
Suddenly, the narrow pipe opened up.
They burst out into the churning, icy waters of Lake Michigan, far past the illuminated perimeter of the Hale estate.
Clara gasped for air, kicking her legs frantically to stay above the crashing waves. Vincent surfaced right beside her, his powerful arms grabbing both Clara and Sophie, keeping them buoyant in the violent storm.
“The shore!” Vincent yelled, pointing to a dark strip of sandy beach fifty yards away.
They fought the current, swimming with every ounce of strength they had left. When their feet finally hit solid ground, they dragged themselves onto the freezing sand, collapsing in a heap of exhausted, shivering limbs.
In the distance, the Hale mansion glowed with the flashing blue and red lights of dozens of police cruisers and FBI vehicles responding to the explosion.
Carmine was trapped in the wine cellar. Hector was locked in the elevator. Silas was dead. Rosalind was unconscious in the boathouse.
The empire had fallen. And they had survived.
Vincent rolled onto his back on the wet sand, staring up at the stormy sky. He started to laugh. A deep, breathless, incredulous laugh.
Clara looked at him, shivering violently, and couldn't help but laugh with him. It was the hysterical relief of cheating death.
Sophie giggled, hugging her soaked stuffed rabbit. “That was a scary waterslide, Daddy.”
Vincent sat up, pulling both of them into his arms, kissing Sophie’s wet hair, then turning to look deeply into Clara’s eyes.
“I don't have a mansion anymore,” Vincent whispered, the rain washing the blood and dirt from his face. “I don't have an empire. I don't have millions in untraceable cash. I’m just a man with a target on his back.”
“You’re a father who saved his daughter,” Clara corrected softly, reaching out to brush a wet lock of dark hair from his forehead. “And you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”
Vincent leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Come with me, Clara. We have to disappear. New names. New city. A completely new life. Will you come with us?”
Clara didn't hesitate. She didn't look back at the flashing lights of the city she was leaving behind. She looked at the man who had fought an army for her, and the little girl she loved like her own.
“I’m not going anywhere, Vincent,” Clara promised.
Six months later.
The warm afternoon sun streamed through the windows of a small, rustic bakery in a quiet coastal town in Maine. The smell of fresh bread and cinnamon filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile scent of the Chicago mansion.
Clara stood behind the wooden counter, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron. She smiled as the bell above the door chimed.
Vincent walked in. He wasn't wearing a tailored black suit or a Kevlar vest. He wore comfortable jeans and a thick wool sweater, looking rugged, relaxed, and impossibly handsome. The heavy burden of the mafia crown was entirely gone from his eyes.
He walked over to the counter, leaning over to kiss Clara deeply, ignoring the flour she left on his cheek.
“How was the bakery today, boss?” Vincent smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with genuine happiness.
“Busy,” Clara laughed, wiping the flour from his face. “How was school pickup?”
The door chimed again. Sophie ran in, wearing a bright yellow raincoat and carrying a messy, colorful painting.
“Clara! Look what I made in art class!” Sophie cheered, holding up the paper.
Clara stepped out from behind the counter, kneeling down to look at the painting.
It was a drawing of a small bakery by the ocean. In the center, holding hands beneath a bright blue sky, were three figures.
A tall man. A little girl. And a woman with bright, smiling eyes.
There were no black scribbles. No shadows of the past. Just a family, whole and safe.
Vincent knelt beside Clara, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. He looked at the painting, then at his daughter, and finally at the woman who had saved them all.
“It’s perfect, sweetheart,” Vincent whispered.
May you like
Clara rested her head on Vincent’s shoulder, her heart completely full. The monsters of Chicago were locked away in federal prisons, the debts were paid, and the shadows were finally gone.
They had lost an empire, but looking at her new family in the warm sunlight of the bakery, Clara knew they had gained the entire world.
