Chapter 6 - THE MUSIC BOX
“Step back!” I shoved Lily behind me, pushing her toward the farthest corner of the panic room.
The heavy steel door shuddered under the violent blows from the outside. Victoria’s men were using a sledgehammer against the emergency hatch.
“Claire, please!” Lily sobbed, clinging to my apron.
My mind raced. The panic room was built to withstand a siege, but the emergency hatch in the maintenance tunnel was older, meant for a quick escape during the Prohibition era. The hinges were groaning.
I looked around the sterile concrete room. Cots, water jugs, a medical kit. No weapons.
Except the heavy metal flashlight in my hand.
“Victoria!” I yelled, stepping closer to the door. “The police are upstairs! They’re swarming the house! If you break this door down, you’ll be trapped in the tunnels!”
Victoria’s manic laughter echoed through the steel. “The police are busy arresting my father in the dining room! He’s the sacrificial lamb, Claire. While they process him, I’m taking what belongs to me.”
BANG. The steel dented inward.
The realization hit me. Elias hadn’t just been left behind because he was defeated. He stayed behind on purpose. He was the distraction. He wanted the police to find him so Gabriel’s men would scatter, leaving the tunnels exposed for Victoria.
“Lily,” I whispered urgently, dropping to my knees. “You have to hide. Under the cot. Pull the blankets down so they can’t see you.”
“I don’t want to leave you!”
“Do it!” I commanded, harsher than I intended.
She scrambled under the canvas cot.
I grabbed the heaviest thing I could find—a five-gallon plastic water jug—and stood beside the hatch, raising it above my head.
BANG. The latch shattered.
The heavy steel door swung outward with a screech.
A massive man in a dark suit stepped through the opening. Before he could raise his gun, I brought the water jug down on his head with all my strength.
The plastic cracked. The water exploded everywhere.
The man grunted, stumbling forward, slipping on the soaked concrete floor. I didn’t hesitate. I swung the heavy metal flashlight, catching him in the jaw. He collapsed in a heap.
I stepped over him to slam the door shut, but a hand shot through the opening, grabbing my throat.
It was Victoria.
She shoved me backward into the panic room. Her champagne gown was torn, her hair wild, and her eyes burned with absolute madness. She was holding a suppressed pistol.
“Where is she?” Victoria hissed, pointing the gun at my chest.
“She’s not here. She went upstairs.”
Victoria smiled. She walked slowly into the center of the room. She noticed the puddle of water. She noticed the blankets dragged low over one specific cot.
She walked over to it and kicked the cot over.
Lily screamed, curling into a ball on the wet floor, clutching Mr. Buttons.
“There’s my daughter,” Victoria cooed.
“Don’t touch her!” I lunged forward, but Victoria whipped the gun around, striking me in the temple.
I crashed into the concrete wall, my vision exploding into white sparks. I slumped to the floor, paralyzed by the pain.
Victoria knelt down and grabbed Lily by the arm, dragging her to her feet.
“Let me go!” Lily thrashed, hitting Victoria with her stuffed rabbit.
“Stop it!” Victoria snapped, slapping the rabbit out of Lily’s hands. Mr. Buttons hit the wet floor, skidding into the corner. “You are coming with me. We are going to Lake Geneva. We are going to pick up your little brother, and we are going to be a family.”
“You’re not my mother!” Lily screamed, kicking Victoria in the shin.
Victoria backhanded the little girl.
My heart stopped. Lily fell hard against the concrete, holding her cheek, weeping silently.
“I am the only mother you have left,” Victoria said coldly. “Isabella is dead.”
Lily froze. “No…”
“Yes,” Victoria lied seamlessly. “My men dealt with her in Milwaukee. You’re mine now.”
I tried to push myself up, but my arms wouldn’t work. “You’re sick, Victoria.”
Victoria ignored me. She dragged Lily toward the open hatch.
But as she stepped into the tunnel, a strange, haunting sound drifted from the darkness.
It was a delicate, tinkling melody. A music box.
Victoria stopped. “What is that?”
The tune was playing a slow, sad rendition of Claire de Lune.
Lily gasped. “That’s my music box. The one Mommy gave me when I was a baby.”
From the shadows of the maintenance tunnel, footsteps echoed. Slow, deliberate footsteps.
A figure stepped into the dim light of the panic room.
It was a woman. Her dark hair was matted with dried blood. Her clothes were torn and soaked with rain. She held a small, wooden music box in one hand, and a heavy iron pipe in the other.
Victoria dropped Lily’s arm, stepping back, raising her gun. Her face drained of all color.
“No,” Victoria whispered, her hands shaking. “You’re in Milwaukee.”
Isabella Moretti stepped over the unconscious guard. She looked at Victoria with a ferocity that made the air in the room turn cold.
“You sent two men to kill a mother, Victoria,” Isabella said, her voice raspy and broken. “You should have sent ten.”
Lily let out a ragged, disbelieving cry. “Mommy?”
Isabella’s eyes flicked to her daughter. Six years of agony, six years of separation, melted instantly into a look of absolute, unconditional love.
“Hi, baby,” Isabella whispered.
May you like
Then she turned back to Victoria, raising the iron pipe.
“Now. Give me back my son.”
