Chapter 7 - THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE FLOOR
The men tore the master suite apart.
I could hear the shattering of lamps, the tearing of silk, and the heavy thuds of furniture being overturned.
Every sound vibrated through the thin cedar wall separating me from them.
My lungs burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to a God I hadn't spoken to in years.
Please. Protect my baby. Protect Michael's child.
“Nothing!” one of the men shouted in frustration. “She’s not here!”
“Check the servant corridors. She couldn’t have gone far. Move!”
The heavy boots pounded away, and the master suite door slammed shut.
Silence fell over the room again, save for the distant, muffled pops of gunfire echoing from the courtyard below.
Luca was fighting a war outside.
I stayed in the pitch-black panic room for what felt like hours. My legs began to cramp, and the cold stone against my back seeped into my bones.
I needed a weapon. I needed a way out.
I slowly felt around the tiny space in the dark.
My hand brushed against something metallic attached to the wall.
A flashlight.
I pulled it from its bracket and flicked it on.
The narrow beam illuminated the secret space. It was a tight, vertical shaft with a rusted iron ladder bolted to the stone, leading downward.
Prohibition tunnels, I realized.
Michael had mentioned them. They led from the master suite directly to the underground wine cellar.
I had no choice. I couldn't stay here waiting to be found.
I carefully turned around and gripped the cold iron rungs.
Climbing down a ladder at six months pregnant in the dark was agonizing. Every movement pulled at the lingering poison in my muscles.
Step by step, I descended into the darkness.
Finally, my bare feet touched the solid concrete floor of the cellar.
The air down here was frigid and smelled of aged oak and damp earth.
I turned off the flashlight, not wanting to draw attention, and crept toward the heavy wooden door that led to the kitchen stairs.
I pushed it open just a crack.
The massive industrial kitchen was empty, but the emergency lights were flashing red.
I slipped out of the cellar and crouched behind the large stainless-steel prep island.
Suddenly, the swinging doors to the dining room burst open.
I ducked lower, holding my breath.
Footsteps staggered into the kitchen. Heavy, dragging, and wet.
I peeked around the edge of the counter.
It was Luca.
His white dress shirt was soaked in blood. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, and he was clutching a handgun in his right hand.
He leaned against the marble counter, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.
He was alone.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.
Luca whipped around, raising his gun with terrifying speed.
When he saw me crouching behind the island, his fierce expression shattered into pure relief.
“Anna,” he breathed, lowering the weapon.
He stumbled toward me, sliding down the cabinets until he was sitting on the floor beside me.
“You’re shot,” I said, my hands hovering over the dark stain spreading across his shoulder.
“It’s a through-and-through,” he grunted, wincing as he shifted his weight. “I’ll live.”
“Where are the guards? Where is Marcus?”
Luca’s eyes darkened with raw hatred.
“Marcus took Vanessa and fled into the tree line when the shooting started. Half my men are dead. The other half are holding the perimeter, but Romano sent a private army.”
He looked at my bare feet and the thin hospital gown I was still wearing.
Without hesitation, he reached over with his good arm and pulled me into his side, shielding my pregnant belly with his body.
“I thought I lost you,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking. “When I saw the master suite torn apart, I thought they took you.”
“I hid in the walls,” I said, tears finally falling. “Michael told me about them.”
Luca closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cabinets.
“Michael saved you. Even from the grave.”
He let out a ragged breath and reached into his pocket with his bloody hand.
He pulled out a heavy, vintage silver object.
A pocket watch.
“I found this on Marcus’s desk in the security office before the breach,” Luca said, pressing the watch into my hand. “It belonged to my father.”
I looked at the intricate engravings.
“Why did Marcus have it?”
“Because Marcus didn't just betray me tonight,” Luca said, his voice turning deadly cold. “Marcus is the one who shot my father ten years ago. And he’s the one who ran Michael off the road.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“And Vanessa?”
“Vanessa was the bait,” Luca sneered. “She made sure Michael was on that specific road at that specific time. She jumped from the car right before Marcus rammed it off the bridge.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes blazing with a promise of absolute violence.
“I am going to kill them, Anna. Both of them. But first, I have to get you out of here.”
Before I could answer, the kitchen doors slowly pushed open.
A man stepped into the red emergency light.
It was Victor Romano.
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He was holding a shotgun, and he was smiling.
TITLE: THE SECRETS BURIED IN THE GARDEN
