Chapter 8 - The Breach at Midnight
The warning didn't come from the security monitors; it came from the ceiling.
A sudden, sharp rattle of automatic gunfire echoed down the elevator shafts from the gold coast room above, followed by the heavy, muffled thud of a concussion grenade that made the white tiles of the basement office vibrate. The lights flickered once, twice, before dying completely, throwing the room into an absolute, pitch-black dark that was instantly filled with the red glare of the emergency backup strips.
"Ambush!" Silvano roared, shoving me and Lily beneath the heavy steel security desk as he turned toward the doorway, his weapon raised.
Roman didn't flinch. In the red light, he looked like a demon made of shadow and wool. He didn't look toward the door; he looked down at his brother, who was already reaching into his canvas jacket for the small silver detonator.
"Marcus," Roman ordered through his earpiece, which was sputtering with static and the sounds of screaming upstairs. "Activate the basement protocol. Seal the freight tunnels. Nobody leaves the garage level alive except the Suburban."
He looked at Caleb. "Where’s the truck?"
"Bay four," Caleb said, his old accounting brain instantly locking back into place despite the terror. "The nitrate is wired to a secondary relay. If they try to force the gate, the whole southern foundation comes down."
"Good," Roman said, pulling his silver-plated revolver from his waistband with a slow, chilling precision. "Clara, stay under the desk with Lily. Silvano, you're on the flank. Caleb... let’s see if you remember how to clear a line."
Caleb didn't hesitate. He reached down and grabbed a heavy steel tire iron from the security desk’s tool rack, his face hardening into that severe, stubborn expression that I now recognized as the Callahan family traits.
The doorway to the security office suddenly filled with light as a flashbang went off in the corridor outside. Three men in gray tactical gear—Moretti’s New York enforcers—stepped through the frame, their weapons raised to spray the room.
They never got the chance.
Roman stepped into the line of fire, his revolver barking three times in rapid, deafening succession. The thunder of the large-caliber weapon inside the concrete room was absolute, splitting the air with a force that made my ears ring. The first two men collapsed instantly into the doorway, their weapons clattering against the tiles, while the third was taken down by Silvano’s steady, rhythmic fire from the corner.
"Move!" Roman commanded, grabbing Caleb by the collar of his jacket and shoving him toward the back exit that led to the utility tunnels. "Silvano, take the girl and Clara through the laundry shafts. The car is waiting at the river exit."
"Roman, no!" I screamed as Silvano pulled me out from under the desk, my arms wrapped around Lily so tight she was letting out small, frightened cries. "Don't leave him!"
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Caleb looked back at me through the red mist of the emergency lights, his face pale but completely at peace for the first time in seventeen months. "Go, Clara! Take Lily and run! I'll be right behind you! I promise!"
The heavy steel door of the security office slammed shut behind us as Silvano dragged me into the dark, steaming interior of the laundry tunnels, the sound of gunfire breaking out again in the corridor behind us, louder and closer than before.
