Chapter 7 - Fire in the Dark
The faint gray mist hung in the cold air of the safe room like a death sentence.
My instincts kicked in with violent speed. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the heavy emergency medical kit from the wall shelf. I ripped open packs of sterile saline wipes and clean bandages, soaking them in water from the emergency bottles stored in the corner cabinet.
"Cover your mouths!" I instructed the children, pressing the wet cloth pads gently over their tiny noses and mouths. "Hold it tight, babies! Keep it over your nose!"
Leo and Julian were frightened, but they held the wet pads firmly, trusting me completely. I held Scylla’s pad against her face with one hand, while my other hand frantically searched the emergency supply drawers.
Think, Clara, think!
Damian wouldn't build a high-tech safe room without a countermeasure for toxic gas. I threw open the lower locker of the metal cabinet, revealing a bright yellow emergency oxygen system—two pressurized oxygen tanks connected to a set of baby-sized silicone masks and a heavy manual air-scrubber unit.
I quickly strapped the small oxygen masks onto the children’s faces, turning the valve on the tank. Pure, cool oxygen whistled into their masks. They blinked up at me through the plastic, breathing safely.
I grabbed the silver handgun Damian had given me, checking the magazine. Full. I switched the safety off with a loud, firm click.
I looked at the black-and-white security monitor on the wall.
The mist in the vent was getting thicker, but on the screen, something miraculous was happening.
Julian Falcone was standing in Damian’s ruined study, holding a heavy tactical walkie-talkie while two of his men operated a noisy diesel generator connected to the air vents. Julian had a arrogant, triumphant grin on his face.
Suddenly, the dark shadow behind him moved.
Out of the smoke and dust of the ruined hallway, Damian materialized like a nightmare risen from hell. His white shirt was soaked in blood at the shoulder, his face was smeared with ash and crimson streaks, but his dark eyes burned with an unholy, terrifying vengeance.
Damian didn't make a sound. He stepped up behind the first man operating the generator, grabbing his head with both hands, and snapped his neck with a brutal, sickening twist.
Before the second man could react, Damian drew a heavy combat knife and plunged it straight through the man’s throat, pinning him to the wooden desk.
Julian spun around, his eyes bulging in sheer terror as his two guards fell dead at his feet. He reached for his gun, but Damian moved faster than humanly possible.
Damian’s heavy fist shattered Julian’s jaw with a sickening CRACK!
Julian flew backward over the glass coffee table, crashing onto the rug in a bloodied heap. He screamed in pain, clutching his broken face as he scrambled backward toward the wall.
"Damian! Wait! Don't—" Julian gasped, spitting out blood and teeth.
Damian didn't say a word. He stepped on Julian’s knee, pressing his full heavy weight down until the bone snapped outward with a terrifying pop.
Julian let out a blood-curdling shriek of agony.
Damian reached down, grabbed Julian by his expensive tie, and dragged his broken body across the floor, pulling him directly toward the hidden wall panel leading down to the safe room.
On the security screen, I saw Damian press his hand against the scanner beside the hidden door.
BEEP!
Down inside the safe room, the heavy titanium deadbolts unlatched with a loud mechanical CLANG-THUD!
The vault door slowly swung open.
I stood in the center of the room, holding the silver handgun in a firm two-handed grip, pointing the barrel straight at the opening.
Damian stepped through the doorway. He was bleeding, covered in ash, his breathing heavy and ragged, but he was alive. He was dragging a weeping, broken Julian Falcone behind him like a sack of trash.
When Damian saw me standing there—holding a gun with perfect form, protecting our three oxygen-masked children behind my back—a look of profound, unshakeable pride flashed through his dark, bloodstained face.
"He's all yours, Clara," Damian rasped, tossing Julian’s broken body onto the carpeted floor at my feet.
Julian rolled onto his back, coughing up blood, looking up at me through one swollen eye. The arrogant mob prince was reduced to a pathetic, whimpering rat.
"Clara... please," Julian wheezed, stretching a bloody hand toward my sneakers. "I'm the biological father... we can work something out... I have millions..."
I looked down at the man who had ordered my babies stolen, who had murdered his own sister, who had tried to poison my children with carbon monoxide five minutes ago.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped forward, bringing the heavy metal grip of the silver handgun swinging down with all the strength in my body directly onto Julian’s face.
BANG-THUD!
Julian’s head slammed against the floor, knocking him out cold instantly.
I stood over him, my chest heaving, the heavy gun steady in my hand. I turned to look at Damian.
"Shut off the ventilation generator," I said, my voice steady as iron. "And call Viktor. We have a Syndicate meeting to attend."
Damian let out a low, dark laugh that turned into a coughing fit. He leaned against the titanium doorframe, looking at me with absolute, burning devotion.
"God, I love you, Clara," Damian murmured softly.
May you like
My breath caught in my throat. Despite the blood, the smoke, and the chaos around us, my heart did a wild flip in my chest. I lowered the gun, walked over to him, and pulled his head down to mine, pressing my lips against his in a deep, desperate kiss filled with the heat of survival.
"Don't you die on me, Damian Marchetti," I whispered against his mouth. "We still have an empire to run."
