Chapter 14 - The Razor's Edge
The rail yard was an industrial slaughterhouse.
Rain hammered against the corrugated metal roofs of the warehouses as Lucien and Evelyn moved through the labyrinth of abandoned shipping containers. Gunfire echoed off the steel walls, sharp and concussive.
Lucien moved like a phantom of violence. He fired three rapid shots, dropping two Valenti gunmen who had emerged from behind a forklift, never slowing his forward advance. Evelyn stayed low, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her mind was terrifyingly clear.
Ahead of them, the heavy steel blast doors of the underground facility were warped and charred, glowing cherry red where thermite charges had burned through the reinforced locks.
“Matteo!” Lucien roared.
From behind a concrete pillar, Matteo stumbled out, his shoulder drenched in dark blood, his assault rifle smoking. “Boss! Inside! Marco Valenti’s younger brother, Silvio—he’s got four men inside the lower archive room!”
Lucien didn't hesitate. He plunged down the concrete staircase into the subterranean bunker.
Evelyn followed closely, the smell of burnt electrical wiring and chemical accelerant burning her throat. The lower vault was filled with rows of floor-to-ceiling metal filing cabinets, many of which were already vomiting thick black smoke.
In the center of the vault stood Silvio Valenti—a broad-shouldered brute with slicked-back hair and a gold chain hanging over his tactical vest. He was dumping cans of industrial kerosene onto the central safe.
“Moretti!” Silvio barked with a maniacal laugh, raising a heavy shotgun. “Too late! The old man’s legacy goes up in smoke tonight!”
Lucien fired, but Silvio’s men laid down a wall of suppressing fire, forcing Lucien behind a steel pillar. Rounds tore into the concrete, spraying shards of stone across Lucien’s face, cutting his cheek.
Evelyn saw her opening.
She dropped to her knees, sliding across the wet, kerosene-slicked concrete floor beneath the line of fire. She aimed her pistol with both hands, steadying her breath just as she had practiced in the basement range of the penthouse.
*Crack. Crack.*
Two rounds struck the gunman covering Silvio directly in the chest. He collapsed into the shelving with a heavy crash.
Silvio turned in shock, swinging the heavy barrel of the shotgun toward Evelyn.
Before he could pull the trigger, Lucien surged from the pillar like a demon unchained. He closed the distance in two strides, his bare hand slamming into Silvio’s wrist, deflecting the shotgun blast into the ceiling. Concrete rained down. Lucien drove a vicious elbow into Silvio’s jaw, the sound of breaking bone echoing through the vault, followed by a boot to his knee that snapped the joint backward.
Silvio screamed, collapsing into the puddle of kerosene.
Lucien kicked the weapons away, his chest heaving, blood dripping from the cut on his cheek down his jawline. He stood over the writhing man, cold and impassive.
Evelyn stood up, wiping soot from her forehead, her gun still aimed at Silvio’s head.
“You’re pathetic, Silvio,” Lucien whispered, raising his weapon. “Tell your brother that when I come for him, I won’t send mercenaries. I will come myself.”
Silvio spat blood onto the floor, his eyes wild with terror. “You think Marco’s the one pulling the strings, Moretti? You’re blind! Marco’s just the hammer! The real architect is someone you let sleep in your own house!”
Lucien froze. The gun did not waver, but the temperature in the vault plummeted to absolute zero.
“What did you say?” Lucien asked.
May you like
Silvio laughed, a wet, choking sound. “Ask your little queen... ask her where her father really went when he disappeared ten years ago.”
***
