Chapter 6 - THE GLASS TOMB AND THE IRON POKER
“Mom!” I screamed, throwing myself at the reinforced glass.
Inside the room, my mother coughed, her frail body convulsing as the yellow gas filled the space. She looked up. Her eyes, so much like mine, widened in disbelief.
She mouthed my name.
Luca raised his shotgun and fired directly at the glass.
BANG.
The glass didn’t even splinter. It was bulletproof lexan.
Vanessa laughed from the top of the stairs.
“It’s chlorine gas, Luca. It burns the lungs from the inside out. She has maybe two minutes.”
Luca didn’t even look at Vanessa.
He raised his gun and fired at Vanessa’s leg.
Vanessa screamed, collapsing down the stairs as the bullet tore through her thigh. She dropped the remote.
Luca lunged forward, grabbing the remote. He smashed the buttons.
Nothing happened.
“It’s on a timer!” Vanessa shrieked in agony, clutching her bleeding leg. “You can’t stop it!”
Inside the room, my mother collapsed to the floor, gasping.
Panic seized my chest.
I looked frantically around the living room.
Fireplace. Marble hearth.
A heavy, solid iron fire poker.
I grabbed it.
I didn’t hit the glass. I knew it wouldn't break.
I looked at the ventilation grate near the floor, where the gas was being pumped in. The metal was bolted to the wall, but it connected to the main house ductwork.
“Luca!” I yelled. “The air vent! Help me pry it!”
Luca dropped the remote and grabbed the other end of the heavy iron poker.
We jammed the sharp edge under the thick metal grate.
“On three!” Luca roared. “One. Two. Three!”
We pulled with everything we had.
The metal shrieked.
The bolts snapped like twigs.
The heavy grate clattered to the floor, leaving a gap just wide enough for a person.
I didn’t think. I dove into the vent headfirst, ignoring the sharp edges tearing at my arms.
I wriggled through the duct, holding my breath to avoid the toxic gas blowing past me.
I kicked the inside grate open and tumbled into the glass room.
The air was burning my eyes. My throat felt like it was coated in acid.
I grabbed my mother.
She was incredibly light. Skin and bones.
“Mom, I got you,” I choked out, tears mixing with the burning chemicals.
I dragged her to the open vent and shoved her through.
Luca reached in from the other side, grabbing her arms and pulling her to safety in the main living room.
I scrambled back through the vent just as my lungs screamed for oxygen.
I collapsed on the rug, coughing violently.
Luca threw a heavy wool blanket over my mother, checking her pulse.
She was breathing. Shallow, but breathing.
My mother opened her eyes and looked at Luca.
“Vincenzo… took her,” she rasped, her voice destroyed by the gas.
“Where, Sarah?” Luca asked gently, his large hands supporting her frail shoulders. “Where did my father take my mother?”
Sarah coughed, gripping Luca’s shirt.
“The Lakeshore Hotel. Room 412.”
Luca froze.
The room number from the old matchbook.
“Why there?” Luca asked.
“Because that’s where the syndicate vault is,” Sarah whispered. “It’s not just a hotel room. It’s a front. Vincenzo needs Elena’s fingerprint to open the biometric lock on the vault. The blackmail files are inside.”
Luca’s jaw clenched.
“He’s going to use her to open the vault, and then he’s going to kill her.”
“Yes,” Sarah cried.
We heard police sirens wailing in the distance. The neighbors must have heard the gunfire.
Luca stood up. He walked over to Vanessa, who was bleeding on the stairs.
He didn’t shoot her again.
He just took her phone from her pocket.
“Enjoy federal prison, Vanessa. Assuming the chlorine gas leaking from the vent doesn’t get you first.”
Luca turned to me.
“Patrick is in the SUV. He can protect your mother when the paramedics arrive. We need to go.”
I kissed my mother’s forehead.
“I’ll come back for you, Mom. I promise.”
“Be careful, Emma,” she whispered, crying. “Vincenzo is a monster.”
I stood up. I wiped my face.
I picked up the shotgun Luca had dropped.
“Let’s go kill a monster,” I said.
Luca looked at me, a fierce, undeniable respect burning in his eyes.
We ran back to the ruined SUV.
Patrick had dragged himself into the driver’s seat.
“I heard sirens,” Patrick wheezed. “I’ll tell the cops everything. Go get her, kid.”
Luca threw Patrick the keys to a different car parked in the driveway.
“Keep Sarah safe, Patrick.”
Luca and I jumped into a black sports car left abandoned by the guards.
The engine roared to life.
We tore down the driveway, speeding back toward Chicago.
It was 11:15 PM.
We had forty-five minutes to reach the Lakeshore Hotel.
I checked the shotgun. Fully loaded.
Luca glanced at me as we hit a straightaway.
“You’re not a housekeeper, Emma.”
“I haven’t been for a long time,” I said.
Luca reached out and briefly squeezed my hand.
His hand was warm. Strong.
“If we survive this,” Luca said quietly, “you’re never cleaning another floor again.”
I squeezed his hand back.
But as we approached the city skyline, Luca’s stolen phone rang.
It was a text from Vincenzo.
Attached was a live video feed.
It showed Luca’s mother, Elena, strapped to a chair in Room 412.
And standing right behind her, holding a syringe to her neck, was Marcus Bellini.
A message popped up underneath the video.
May you like
If you walk into the hotel, she dies.
TITLE: THE SYRINGE AT MY MOTHER’S THROAT
