Chapter 3 - THE BASEMENT IN THE DARK
The lock clicked again.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside. Heavy, methodical, moving away from our door.
Luca didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the bedside table, ripped the cord from the wall, and swung it with devastating force against the door handle.
The metal shattered.
He kicked the door open.
The hallway was empty. The nurses' station at the end of the corridor was completely abandoned.
“They evacuated the staff,” I said, checking my phone. No signal. “He’s blocking the cell service in this wing.”
Anna was still crying, clutching the medical files to her chest.
“Dad, we need to call the police. We need to leave.”
“No,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “We aren’t leaving. Not without her.”
He turned to the old doctor in the wheelchair.
“Anthony. Where are the stairs?”
“End of the hall. Through the fire doors. But Luca...” The old man’s voice trembled. “Charles isn’t just your doctor. He’s my brother. He built this place. He controls the security. You are walking into a cage.”
“I’ve lived in a cage my whole life,” Luca said. “It ends today.”
He looked at me.
“Rebecca. Take Anna. Get Anthony down the fire escape and get to your car. Drive until your phone works.”
I looked at this stubborn, dying man.
I saw the gray in his cheeks. The sweat forming on his brow. The blood pressure dropping silently in his veins.
“No,” I said.
He glared at me. “Ms. Collins. This is not a request.”
“I’m your nurse,” I said, stepping past him toward the hallway. “You have a hypotensive episode on those stairs, you die. I’m coming with you.”
Luca stared at me.
For a second, the mafia boss looked entirely out of his depth.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered.
“I’m professional,” I corrected.
I grabbed my medical bag. I turned to Anna.
“Anna, lock this door behind us. Put the wheelchair against it. Do not open it for anyone but us. Do you understand?”
She nodded, wiping her tears. “Find my mother.”
Luca and I moved fast.
The facility was eerily quiet. Dawn light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the linoleum.
We reached the fire doors.
Locked.
Luca didn't slow down. He backed up, drove his shoulder into the wood, and the frame splintered. We pushed through into the stairwell.
It was pitch black.
I clicked on my penlight.
We descended three flights. Past the lobby level. Down into the basement.
The air grew cold. It smelled of damp concrete and antiseptic.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was a heavy steel door.
No handle.
Just a magnetic keycard reader.
“The Annex,” Luca read the faded letters painted on the steel.
He pushed against it. It didn't budge.
“We need a keycard,” I said.
“I don't have time for a keycard,” Luca grunted.
He reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a heavy, black handgun.
My heart jumped into my throat.
“Luca, no!” I whispered. “A gunshot will bring every guard in this building.”
“I don't care,” he said, aiming at the magnetic lock.
Before he could pull the trigger, I noticed something caught in the bottom hinge of the door.
A piece of fabric.
I knelt down and pulled it free.
It was a black silk ribbon.
Faded. Frayed at the edges.
Exactly like the one in the family portrait over Luca’s fireplace.
“Luca,” I said softly. I held up the ribbon.
He lowered the gun. His eyes locked onto the fabric.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered.
“She didn't just find a map,” I said, tracing the doorframe with my penlight. “She came down here. She found a way in.”
I scanned the wall next to the reader.
There was a small electrical panel. The screws were loose.
I pulled the cover off.
Inside, the wires had been deliberately cut and spliced together with a piece of medical tape.
Elizabeth Ferraro wasn't just a victim. She was brilliant. She had bypassed the lock twelve years ago.
I pressed the two spliced wires together.
The magnetic lock clicked.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
We stepped into the darkness.
The Annex wasn't a medical wing.
It was a long, concrete corridor lined with heavy, solid iron doors.
It looked like a prison.
“Sofia?” Luca called out, his voice echoing in the gloom.
Silence.
Then, from the very last door at the end of the hall, came a sound.
A soft, rhythmic tapping.
We ran toward it.
The door had a small reinforced glass window.
I shined my penlight through the glass.
Inside the small, windowless cell was a narrow bed.
And sitting on the edge of the bed was a woman.
Her hair was completely white. Her face was lined with thirty years of suffering. But she had a small, distinct scar above her left eyebrow.
Sofia.
Luca grabbed the heavy iron handle.
“Sofia! It’s Luca Ferraro. I’m going to get you out.”
The woman didn't look at him.
She kept tapping her finger against her knee.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then, she spoke. Her voice was raspy, unused for decades.
“You shouldn't have brought the nurse, Luca.”
Luca froze.
“What?”
Sofia finally turned her head. Her eyes were sharp. Alert. Not crazy at all.
She looked directly at me through the glass.
“Because Charles didn't trap me down here,” she whispered.
She held up her wrist.
Around it was a thick, silver medical bracelet.
“He trapped me down here to protect me from the person who really killed Elizabeth.”
She pointed a shaking finger at the glass.
“And you just brought her right to my door.”
I stepped back, stunned.
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Luca slowly turned his head to look at me, his gun still in his hand.
TITLE: THE PULSE IN THE VEIN
