Chapter 6 - The Gold Vault Key
The cold steel of Dante’s pistol pressed brutally against my temple.
My scalp burned where his fist was twisted into my hair. I could smell the stale scotch on his breath and the expensive cologne that failed to mask the scent of his panicked sweat.
“Claire!” my father cried again, his sightless eyes scanning the room in absolute terror. He stumbled forward, but one of the security guards caught him, pulling him back to safety.
“Stay back, old man, or she dies right here!” Dante shouted.
Roman’s face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. He took a slow step forward, his gun still aimed at Dante’s head, but his eyes were locked on mine.
“Let her go, Dante,” Roman ordered, his voice vibrating with a lethal promise. “She has nothing to do with this family. She’s innocent.”
“Innocence is a luxury we can’t afford tonight, nephew,” Dante sneered. He dragged me another step backward, moving toward the grand double doors that led to the mansion’s subterranean elevator.
Dante held up the small black remote control in his left hand, his thumb hovering dangerously over the red button. “The codes, Roman. Now. Or I blow the shipping container and your precious son turns to ash.”
Serena sobbed from the floor, clutching Roman’s pant leg. “Give him the codes, Roman! Please, save Leo!”
Roman didn’t look at Serena. He kept his eyes on me. I saw the agonizing conflict tearing him apart. If he gave Dante the codes, he armed a monster with half a billion dollars. If he didn’t, his son would die, and I would be executed in front of my father.
“I’m okay, Mr. DeLuca,” I lied, my voice shaking. “Don’t give it to him.”
Dante yanked my hair harder, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips. “Shut your mouth, little girl.”
“0-4-1-9,” Roman said quickly, the numbers tumbling from his lips in defeat.
Dante smiled. “Your mother’s birthday. How predictably sentimental. Now, tell your guards to drop their weapons and clear the hallway.”
Roman raised his free hand. “Stand down. All of you. Let him pass.”
The guards hesitated, but slowly, twenty handguns were lowered to the marble floor.
Dante began to drag me backward out of the dining room. The heavy gold vault key swung from his fingers, glinting in the chandelier light.
As we crossed the threshold, Sofia DeLuca suddenly struck her silver cane hard against the floor.
Clack.
“Dante!” the blind matriarch called out, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Dante paused in the doorway. “What is it, old woman? Do you want to say goodbye?”
Sofia turned her face perfectly toward the sound of his voice. She didn’t look frightened. She looked victorious.
“I spent twenty-four years in the dark, Dante,” Sofia said, her tone sending a chill straight down my spine. “I didn’t spend it doing nothing.”
Dante frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Sofia reached into the pocket of her elegant black mourning dress. She pulled out a small, metallic cylinder with a toggle switch on top.
It looked exactly like an old-fashioned radio detonator.
“You wanted the master key to the subterranean vault, Dante?” Sofia asked, a grim, satisfied smile spreading across her wrinkled face. “I hope you enjoy it. Because ten years ago, I paid Peter Nardi to wire that entire vault with C4 explosives.”
Peter, still bleeding on the floor, let out a wet, coughing laugh. “She pays better than you do, Dante.”
Dante’s face went entirely pale. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Sofia challenged. “You murdered my daughter for that money. I swore to God I would burn it all to ash before I ever let you spend a single dime of it.”
She placed her thumb over the toggle switch.
“Drop the remote, Dante. Let the girl go. Or I blow the vault while you’re standing right on top of it,” Sofia commanded.
Dante panicked. The arrogant mastermind was suddenly trapped between his own bomb and his mother-in-law’s. He looked at the gold key in his hand, then at the floor beneath his feet, realizing the subterranean vault was directly below us.
That momentary distraction was all I needed.
I didn’t hesitate. I drove the stiletto heel of my maid’s shoe as hard as I could into Dante’s instep.
Dante howled in pain, his grip on my hair loosening just enough.
I threw my elbow backward, catching him squarely in the nose. Blood sprayed across my shoulder.
“You bitch!” Dante screamed.
He raised the pistol to shoot me.
BANG.
The gunshot deafened me, but the bullet didn’t hit my body.
Dante staggered backward, dropping his gun and the detonator. He clutched his shoulder, blood pouring between his fingers.
I turned around, gasping for air.
Roman was standing ten feet away, his gun smoking. He had shot his uncle the second Dante let me go.
Dante stumbled backward, his heel catching on the edge of the grand staircase behind him. He lost his balance, flailing wildly as he plummeted backward down the steep marble stairs.
His body hit the landing with a sickening crunch.
I collapsed to my knees, shaking uncontrollably. Roman sprinted across the room, sliding onto the floor beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my face against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” Roman whispered fiercely into my hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I clung to his suit, burying my face in his neck.
But the relief only lasted for a second.
From the bottom of the stairs, a weak, gurgling laugh echoed up to us.
Roman let go of me and walked to the edge of the stairs, looking down at his broken uncle. Dante was paralyzed, his neck bent at an unnatural angle, but he was still breathing.
“Where is the shipping container, Dante?” Roman demanded.
May you like
Dante smiled, blood bubbling past his lips.
“I didn’t drop the remote, Roman,” Dante wheezed. “I pressed the button.”
