Chapter 4 - The Tunnels Below
"DOWN!" Alessandro roared.
Before the mercenaries could open fire, Alessandro tackled Sophia and Emma to the marble floor, opening fire with his sidearm. Marco lunged to the left, firing his submachine gun in disciplined three-round bursts, taking down two of Victor's guards instantly.
Bruno didn't dive for cover.
With a terrifying roar, the massive black Cane Corso charged straight at Victor Vance.
BANG!
Victor’s revolver flashed. A heavy bullet grazed Bruno’s shoulder, tearing a streak of red through his dark coat, but the dog didn't even flinch. The sheer momentum of his 140-pound body slammed directly into Victor’s chest, sending the old traitor crashing through a glass display case containing antique swords.
"Agh! Get him off me!" Victor shrieked, his silver revolver clattering across the floor as Bruno’s jaws snapped inches from his face, pinned down by the dog's front paws.
"Victor!" the remaining mercenary yelled, turning his weapon toward Bruno.
Alessandro didn't give him the chance. He fired two precise shots through the man's throat, neutralizing the threat.
"Bruno! Break!" Alessandro barked.
For a second, it seemed the dog would disobey, his teeth hovering over Victor’s exposed throat. But then Emma’s small, trembling voice floated through the smoke-filled corridor.
"Bruno! Come back! Please!"
The dog’s ears twitched. He let out one final, terrifying snap near Victor’s cheek, then disengaged, turning his massive head back toward Emma. He limped heavily, his right shoulder dripping blood, but his posture remained fierce as he trotted back to the child’s side.
Victor lay among the shattered glass, bleeding from his face and gasping for air, clutching his chest. "You... you won't make it to the river..." he choked out, coughing blood. "My men... have the entire estate surrounded..."
Alessandro stepped up to Victor, staring down at him with pure, unadulterated coldness. He raised his gun, pointing it between Victor's eyes.
"Alessandro! No!" Marco yelled from the stairwell. "The heavy units are coming down the hall! We have to go NOW!"
Alessandro stared at the man who had destroyed his family sixteen years ago. He wanted nothing more than to end it right here. But then he looked back at Emma, who was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, her arms wrapped around Bruno’s bloody neck.
"Death is too clean for you, Victor," Alessandro said quietly. "I'm going to take everything you built, tear it apart, and leave you with nothing."
Alessandro turned away, kicking Victor’s silver revolver down the hallway, and grabbed the heavy iron handle of the wine cellar door. "Move! Into the tunnels!"
They rushed down the narrow, spiral stone staircase, plunging into the cool, dark dampness beneath the mansion. Marco slammed the heavy iron door behind them, throwing the ancient locking bolts into place just as heavy boots began pounding against the wood from the floor above.
The cellar smelled of old oak barrels, damp earth, and moss.
"Is everyone alright?" Alessandro asked, pulling a small tactical flashlight from his pocket and illuminating the dark passageway.
Sophia was shaking violently, clutching Emma to her chest. "She’s okay... she’s okay... oh God, Alessandro, there was so much blood..."
Emma reached up, her small fingers gently wiping a streak of red from her mother’s cheek. "Don't cry, Mommy. Bruno saved us."
Alessandro turned the light toward the dog.
Bruno was lying on his side on the cold flagstones, his breathing heavy and ragged. The bullet graze on his shoulder was bleeding steadily, and his ancient rear legs were shaking uncontrollably from the immense exertion.
Dr. Richard Hale’s words echoed in Alessandro’s mind: Severe arthritis. Old fracture too.
Alessandro knelt beside the dog. He pulled off his silk necktie, wrapping it tightly around Bruno’s bleeding shoulder to stem the flow.
"Bruno," Alessandro whispered softly, his hand resting on the dog’s broad head. "Can you hear me, old boy?"
Bruno’s amber eyes fluttered open. He didn't growl. He didn't turn away. He simply let out a tiny, exhausted breath, resting his snout against Alessandro’s knee.
"He can't walk anymore, Boss," Marco said grimly, looking down the long, dark tunnel that stretched for nearly a mile toward the Chicago River. "His body is giving out."
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Alessandro stood up. He removed his tailored suit jacket, tossing it aside, and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves.
"He carried my family's secrets for sixteen years," Alessandro said, bending down and carefully sliding his arms beneath Bruno’s massive chest and hindquarters. "I can carry him for a mile."
