Chapter 7 - The Trap in the East Wing
"Who’s there?" Hannah demanded, rushing to the heavy oak door and rattling the brass handle. It was locked firm.
"You should have stuck to folding towels, Hannah," a coarse voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Hannah recognized the voice instantly. It was Marco—Nico’s most trusted lieutenant, the man who had guarded the safe room during the attack.
"Marco?" Hannah said, her mind reeling. "You’re working with Julian?"
A dry chuckle echoed through the door. "Julian is a hothead, but he pays very well. He promised me full control of the harbor terminals once Nico was eliminated. You ruined everything by finding that patch, Hannah. If you had just let the poison do its work slowly, Nico would have been broken by grief, and Julian would have taken the throne without firing a shot."
"You poisoned a six-year-old child!" Hannah shouted through the door, her hands clenching into fists. "You guarded her safe room while knowing she was dying!"
"Business is business," Marco replied coldly. "Nico is currently on his way to District 4, walking straight into a trap Julian set for him. And you... well, you’re going to suffer an unfortunate accident. A tragic linen closet fire due to faulty wiring. Such a shame."
Hannah heard the heavy thump of a furniture barricade being pushed against the door from the outside, followed by the faint, terrifying smell of gasoline being poured beneath the crack of the floorboard.
"Marco, stop!" Hannah slammed her hands against the door, but the sound of Marco’s footsteps retreated down the hallway.
Liquid began seeping beneath the door frame—clear, pungent gasoline.
Hannah didn't waste time panicking. She took a deep breath, her instincts kicking in. She looked around the enclosed room. There were no windows, no secondary exits. Only shelves filled with heavy linens, wooden trunks, and a small ceiling vent used for ventilation.
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She looked at the ceiling vent. It was high up, barely eight inches wide, but connected to the mansion's main air ducts.
The smell of gasoline grew stronger, followed by the bright flick of a lighter outside. A tongue of yellow flame instantly roared to life under the door, setting the carpet ablaze.
