Chapter 4 - The Whispering Harbor
"Cover your mouths!" Dominic barked, his voice slicing through the sudden haze.
He grabbed Alina by her arm, pulling her and Lucia into the guest suite, while Marco slammed the heavy oak door shut and locked the brass deadbolt.
The sweet-smelling smoke began to seep beneath the crack of the door. Outside in the corridor, the sharp, rhythmic pops of suppressed gunfire erupted, followed by the heavy thuds of falling bodies.
"They're inside the main wing," Marco said, pulling his weapon and taking a position beside the doorframe. "The perimeter sensors were disabled from the server room."
Dominic didn't hesitate. He walked over to the far wall of the guest suite, where a heavy mahogany wardrobe sat filled with extra linens. He placed his broad palm against the carved wooden molding at the side, pressing a hidden pressure latch.
With a soft mechanical hiss, the entire wardrobe swung forward on hidden iron hinges, revealing a dark stone staircase descending into the gray-stone foundation of the mansion.
"Down," Dominic commanded, gesturing to Alina.
Alina scooped Lucia into her arms, running into the hidden passage. Dominic stepped in behind them, followed by Marco, who pulled the mahogany wardrobe shut from the inside, plunging them into dim red emergency lighting.
The stone stairwell was cool and damp, smelling of saltwater and aged granite. The thrum of gunfire above faded into a dull, distant vibration as they descended deep beneath the house.
"Where does this go?" Alina whispered, her breath ragged as she held Lucia tight against her chest.
"To the original 19th-century smuggling vault beneath the harbor wall," Dominic replied, his voice calm and steady in the dark. "Built by my grandfather. It's not on any modern architectural blueprint."
They reached the bottom of the flight, stepping into a circular granite chamber. A heavy iron door sat set into the stone wall, secured by a three-wheel combination lock.
Dominic stepped up to the lock, his large fingers turning the iron dial with practiced precision. Right 42... Left 18... Right 09.
The heavy iron rods retracted with a deep metallic CLANG.
Before Dominic could push the door open, seven-year-old Lucia gently pulled on his suit sleeve.
"Mr. Dominic," she whispered, her wide brown eyes looking at the damp stone wall to their left. "Someone is breathing behind that door."
Dominic froze. His hand stayed on the iron handle. Marco immediately raised his weapon, stepping in front of Alina and the child.
Dominic slowly turned his head, his blue-gray eyes fixing on the seamless stone panel Lucia was pointing at.
The silence in the subterranean chamber was absolute, save for the faint drip of water from an overhead pipe.
May you like
Dominic leaned his head closer to the stone wall. Through the four-inch granite, a faint, rhythmic electronic chime was ticking—counting down from sixty seconds.
"Breaching charge," Dominic whispered, his eyes widening with sudden, absolute rage. "They knew about the vault."
