Chapter 9 - THE TUNNELS BENEATH
The basement air was cool and smelled of damp earth and aged cork.
Luca bolted the heavy oak door behind us, sliding the thick iron deadbolt into place.
“That will buy us maybe two minutes before they blow the hinges,” Luca said, tossing the flashlight to my dad.
We rushed down the narrow aisles of vintage wine racks.
At the very back of the cellar was a solid brick wall, covered in decades of dust and cobwebs.
My dad stepped forward, shining the light on the mortar.
“Here,” he pointed to a brick that looked slightly darker than the rest. “Antonio said push the keystone.”
Luca pressed his palm against the brick.
It didn’t move.
Above us, a massive THUD shook the ceiling. They were hitting the cellar door with a battering ram.
“Push harder!” I cried, putting my hands next to Luca’s.
Together, we threw our weight against the wall.
With a grinding screech of stone on stone, a heavy section of the brickwork swung inward on hidden iron hinges.
Black, stale air rushed out.
“Go!” Luca ordered.
My dad scrambled into the tunnel first, sweeping the flashlight beam over the damp, rounded walls.
I followed him, the air thick and hard to breathe.
Luca stepped in last, grabbing the edge of the secret door and pulling it shut just as the wine cellar door upstairs exploded inward with a deafening CRASH.
The brick wall clicked shut, plunging us into total silence.
Only the thin beam of my dad’s flashlight illuminated the darkness.
“Keep moving,” Luca whispered, taking the lead. “The tunnel goes straight for half a mile, then branches.”
We practically ran through the claustrophobic space. My lungs burned, but the grip Luca kept on my hand grounded me.
Answer one. Open two.
We had escaped the house.
But how did Matteo know we were in the basement?
Ten minutes later, the tunnel opened up into a wider, circular brick chamber.
Three different tunnels branched off from it.
Luca stopped, shining his phone light down the center path.
“This one,” he said. “It leads to the old boathouse on the river.”
Suddenly, a voice echoed from the tunnel to our right.
“I wouldn’t take that one, little brother.”
We all froze.
Stepping out of the shadows of the right tunnel was Matteo.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a black trench coat. He held a tactical shotgun casually across his chest.
Reversal.
Matteo hadn’t breached the front door. He had sent his men to do that as a distraction.
He knew about the tunnels.
“You forgot, Luca,” Matteo smiled, his eyes cold and dead. “Dad showed me these tunnels when I was twelve. Long before you were even born.”
Luca slowly stepped in front of me and my dad, shielding us with his body.
“It’s over, Matteo. You have the house. Let them go.”
“I told you, it’s not about the house,” Matteo said, raising the shotgun. “It’s about erasing Antonio’s mistakes.”
He pointed the barrel directly at my father’s chest.
“Goodbye, detective.”
Matteo pulled the trigger.
The blast was deafening in the confined space.
I screamed, closing my eyes.
But my father didn’t fall.
When I opened my eyes, Matteo was staggering backward, dropping the shotgun.
Blood was blooming rapidly across the shoulder of his black trench coat.
Standing behind him, emerging from the dark tunnel he had just walked out of, was Daniel.
Luca’s head of security.
He was holding the suppressed pistol Luca had taken from him in the coach house the night before.
“I work for the Bellinis, Matteo,” Daniel said coldly, aiming the gun at Matteo’s head. “And Carlo doesn’t want to share the ports with New York.”
Cliffhanger.
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Daniel hadn’t come to save us. He had come to eliminate the competition.
TITLE: THE FINAL BETRAYAL
