Chapter 6 - The oxygen clock
The air in the vault was instantly thick and suffocating. Clara panicked, rushing to the heavy iron door and pushing against it with all her might. It didn't budge. Bennett remained frighteningly calm. He pulled his luxury watch up, using the faint luminescent glow of the dial to navigate the small space.
"Save your breath, Clara," Bennett said quietly. "The vault is airtight. Panicking will only consume the oxygen faster."
Clara slid down the cold wall, pulling her knees to her chest. The reality of their situation crashed over her. She was going to die in the dark with the most dangerous man in the city.
Bennett sat down next to her. In the terrifying darkness, the lines between boss and maid, billionaire and commoner, entirely blurred. He reached out, finding her trembling hand in the dark, and laced his strong fingers through hers. It was a deeply protective, masculine gesture that grounded her.
"I'm sorry," Clara whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I brought this danger to your home. To your mother."
"You brought the truth," Bennett corrected gently. "My father built an empire on a rotten foundation. You just handed me the sledgehammer to fix it."
As the hours passed, the air grew incredibly thin. Clara's head began to spin. She leaned heavily against Bennett's broad shoulder, her breathing shallow. Bennett wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, his own breathing strained.
Just as Clara's eyes began to slip shut, a massive, deafening explosion shook the very foundations of the mansion. The iron door of the vault groaned, then violently ripped open, flooding the space with bright, blinding light and gray smoke.
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Coughing and shielding her eyes, Clara looked up to see Eleanor sitting in her wheelchair at the top of the cellar stairs. Next to the dying woman stood a tall, broad-shouldered man holding a heavy breach-charge detonator.
Clara gasped, the remaining air leaving her lungs. "Brother?"
