Chapter 8 - The Summit of Shadows
"Put the gun down, Celeste," Marcus commanded, drawing his weapon instantly and stepping between Celeste and Clara.
Celeste didn't even flinch. "You're outnumbered, Marcus. Don Falcone's men hold the entire clinic perimeter. Hand over the ledger, or nobody leaves this cliff alive."
Clara stood tall behind Marcus, clutching eight-year-old Ellie against her side. Her fair, rosy cheeks were flushed, but her eyes burned with an unyielding, fierce strength that mirrored Victor's own authority.
"You took my memory for eight years, Celeste," Clara said, her voice echoing clearly off the damp concrete walls. "You made me clean the floors of the house that belonged to my family. But it ends tonight."
Celeste scoffed, her finger tightening on the trigger. "You were always weak, Clara. Just like your father—"
BOOM!
Before Celeste could finish her sentence, the high glass skylight above the sub-basement archive exploded inward in a shower of crystal shards and rain.
A massive figure rappelled down through the opening on a tactical cable, landing smoothly on the concrete floor between Marcus and Celeste's mercenaries.
It was Victor Moretti.
His midnight-black tuxedo was torn, his broad chest rising and falling with lethal rhythm, his dark eyes burning like twin fires in the darkness.
Without uttering a single word, Victor fired three precise shots from his tactical sidearm. The three mercenaries flanking Celeste collapsed to the floor before they could even level their rifles.
Celeste shrieked in sudden, sheer terror, backing toward the exit as Victor disarmed the remaining guard with a brutal, single-handed strike.
Victor stepped forward, his tall, imposing frame blocking the doorway. He reached out his broad hand, grabbing Celeste by her throat, and lifted her three feet off the ground, pinning her against the damp concrete wall.
Celeste choked, clawing frantically at his iron grip, her eyes bulging with terror.
"Victor... please!" she rasped out. "Falcone made me do it! He promised me half the territory!"
"You put poison near my wife and daughter, Celeste," Victor growled, his deep voice shaking the subterranean room. "There is no mercy for you."
Victor delivered a swift strike to her jaw, rendering her unconscious, and let her collapse onto the concrete floor like a discarded rag.
He turned to Clara and Ellie, his terrifying demeanor vanishing instantly as he swept Ellie into his broad arms and pulled Clara flush against his chest.
"Are you hurt?" Victor asked softly, his voice trembling with rare emotion.
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"We're safe, Victor," Clara whispered, pressing her face into his broad shoulder. "We have the ledger."
Victor looked down at the leather-bound book in her hands, then met her dark eyes. "Then it's time to attend the syndicate summit in Manhattan."
