Chapter 6 - Blood in the Cellar
In the pitch blackness, total chaos erupted.
The heavy thud of bodies colliding against stone echoed off the arched ceiling. I heard a grunt of pain, followed by the sickening sound of metal connecting with bone. Luca had moved the instant the lights failed; he was an athlete who spent his mornings boxing, while Richard Sterling's men were encumbered by heavy gear and sudden blindness.
"Find him! Shoot him!" Richard roared, firing another blind round into the dark.
I crawled behind a stack of wooden crates, my hand brushing against an old heavy iron candelabra on a display table. I hoisted it with both hands and hurled it toward the far corner of the room. The loud clatter drew Richard's immediate attention.
"There he is!" Richard fired twice toward the sound of the clattering metal.
The flash revealed his exact position. From the shadows, Luca lunged like a panther. He struck Richard's wrist, sending the silver handgun clattering across the concrete floor, right to my feet.
Without hesitating, I scooped up the weapon. It was heavier than I imagined, cold and slick with the dampness of the room.
"Get off me, you bastard!" Richard snarled as Luca pinned him against the cold brick wall with a forearm pressed against his windpipe.
"Drop the cutters, or I swear to God I’ll snap his neck right here," Luca bellowed into the darkness. His voice had the raw, terrifying power of an apex predator.
The whine of the thermal cutter died instantly. The two hired thugs, suddenly realizing their employer was seconds from having his larynx crushed, raised their hands in surrender.
"Emily!" Luca called out, his breathing heavy. "Are you alright?"
"I'm here, Mr. Vance," I said, stepping out from behind the crates and flicking on my cell phone flashlight. The beam illuminated the scene: Luca had the older billionaire pinned by the throat, his knuckles white, while Vanessa crouched in a corner, sobbing hysterically in ruins of mascara and terror.
"You little street rat," Vanessa hissed at me through her tears, glaring at the gun in my hand. "You ruined my life!"
"You ruined your own life the second you treated human beings like garbage," I replied, keeping the flashlight beam leveled directly at her father.
Luca reached down and ripped the brass key from his pocket, tossing it to me. "Emily, unlock the vault."
My hands shook, but I walked over to the ancient iron door. I inserted the tarnished brass key into the central lock. It turned with a heavy, satisfying click that sounded like the turning of a century-old wheel. The heavy iron door groaned on its massive hinges as it swung outward, releasing the scent of dry parchment, aged cedar, and sealed destiny.
Inside, on a single steel pedestal, sat a fireproof metal lockbox bearing Arthur Vance's handwritten initials.
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Richard Sterling let out a pathetic, ragged groan from against the wall. "Luca... please. We can make a deal. Fifty percent of Sterling International. Cash, bonds, whatever you want."
Luca leaned down until his lips were inches from the disgraced mogul's ear. "My father died waiting for justice. Tonight, he gets it."
