Chapter 4 - The Sound of Silence
The panic inside the ballroom was beginning to ripple outward as a few guests near the service entrance noticed the commotion, but Alessandro paid them no mind. He let go of Luca’s lapels, letting the traitor slide down the wall into a heap of unconsciousness.
Alessandro bent down, scooped little Lily into his arms, and pulled her close against his chest. The child buried her face in his shoulder, her tiny hands clutching the threadbare gray rabbit she refused to abandon.
"We're going to find your mother," Alessandro signed against her back, his fingers moving with practiced clarity. "Hold on to me."
He drew his SIG Sauer from his holster, holding it low and ready as he slipped through the heavy mahogany doors leading into the domestic service wing. The air here was cooler, smelling faintly of bleach, laundry detergent, and old dust. The distant hum of the string quartet sounded like music playing underwater.
He moved silently down the narrow corridor, checking each doorway. Laundry room: empty. Pantry: undisturbed, save for a knocked-over jar of preserves.
At the far end of the hall, near the heavy metal exit leading down to the private docks where Alessandro’s motor yachts were moored, a sliver of yellow light cut across the floor.
Footsteps echoed softly from the stairwell below—fast, hurried, clicking heels mixed with the heavy, dragging sound of someone struggling under weight.
Alessandro pressed himself flat against the brick wall beside the stairwell entrance, holding Lily tighter against his chest. He closed his eyes for a single second, letting his other senses take over. He felt the faint vibration of footsteps on the metal stairs, the slight rush of damp air rising from the basement level, and the muffled sound of a desperate gasp.
"Move faster," Vivian’s voice hissed from the bottom of the stairs. "If Alessandro realizes what happened to Luca, we won't make it to the boat."
"I'm trying," a second, unfamiliar voice grunted—one of Vivian’s imported bodyguards from New Jersey. "She's heavier than she looks, and she won't stop kicking."
Rosa Delgado was fighting back. Even bruised and cornered, the woman who spent her days scrubbing Moretti floors had more courage in her small frame than half the soldiers in Alessandro’s payroll.
Alessandro didn't wait for them to reach the top.
May you like
He stepped around the corner, his pistol raised and steady, locking directly onto the chest of the bodyguard who had his arm wrapped tightly around Rosa’s neck.
"Drop her," Alessandro said. His voice didn't echo; it simply filled the space, cold and absolute as winter ice.
