Chapter 2 - Into the Fire
Bruno stared at her in utter disbelief. “Mrs. Vieira, you don’t understand—these men are professional killers. They’re sweeping the estate floor by floor.”
“I understand that my husband is bleeding out downstairs, and if they finish him, they’re coming for me next,” Janevra snapped, holding her hand out. “Give me the gun, Bruno. Now.”
Swearing under his breath, Bruno unclipped his secondary Glock 19 from his tactical holster, checked the magazine, and pressed it into her trembling hand. The cold steel felt heavy and grounding against her palm. She had spent her youth watching her father’s enforcers practice at the private estate range; she knew how to shoot, even if she had never pointed a weapon at a living soul.
“The main staircase is suicide,” Bruno whispered, clutching his bleeding arm. “They have the west wing choked off. But the service elevator shaft connects the second-floor linen room directly to the sub-level armory where Elio is trapped.”
“Lead the way,” Janevra commanded.
Moving with terrifying stealth, they slipped out of the bedroom and navigated the darkened corridors of the east wing. The estate was dead silent, save for the distant, muffled pops of gunfire and the shattering of crystal chandeliers below. The smart-home lighting systems had been disabled by the signal jammers, plunging the opulent halls into deep shadows cast by the flickering emergency strobes.
They reached the service linen room without encountering the hit squad. Bruno pried open the heavy metal access panel to the elevator shaft with a grunt of pain.
“Go down the ladder,” Bruno instructed, wincing as he clutched his wound. “I’ll secure the upper landing to buy you three minutes. If you make it to the sub-level, find the breaker box and cut the main power grid. Plunge the entire estate into total darkness. It’s our only equalizer against men with thermal scopes.”
Janevra didn’t hesitate. She shoved the gun into the waistband of her trousers, gripped the cold metal rungs of the ladder, and descended into the black abyss of the shaft.
The air grew damp and smelled of ozone and gunsmoke. When her boots finally hit the concrete floor of the sub-level corridor, the sounds of battle were deafeningly close. Heavy footsteps pounded overhead, accompanied by ruthless shouts in Italian.
Janevra pressed her back against the damp concrete wall, lifting the Glock with both hands, her knuckles white. She crept down the dimly lit corridor toward the master breaker room, her breath coming in shallow, controlled gasps.
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the corner ahead.
A Santoro enforcer, clad in tactical black with a suppressed rifle raised, stepped into the hallway. He spotted her instantly. His eyes widened behind his night-vision goggles, and he instantly swung his rifle toward her chest.
There was no time to think. No time to hesitate.
Janevra raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
The deafening roar of the gunshot echoed violently through the narrow concrete corridor. The recoil slammed hard against her wrists, nearly knocking her off balance. The enforcer collapsed instantly, crashing heavily onto the floor.
Janevra stood frozen, staring down at the smoke rising from the barrel of her gun, the copper taste of adrenaline flooding her mouth. She had just taken a human life. The reality of the underworld she had been born into finally bared its teeth.
There was no turning back now.
May you like
Stepping over the fallen guard, she lunged into the breaker room, grabbed the heavy master levers, and threw them down with all her might.
Instantly, the entire Vieira estate plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
