Chapter 6 - THE TRAP SPRINGS
Z
Victory in the underworld was always a fragile illusion, and desperation made wounded predators infinitely more reckless.
The gala had ended after midnight. The rain, which had held off during the evening, returned with a violent vengeance, drumming against the roof of the armored Maybach as it wound its way through the industrial outskirts of south Providence.
Vincent was riding in the lead vehicle with Marcus to oversee the final secure transport of Vance’s seized hard drives, while Nora and Evelyn followed in the secondary armored car flanked by two seasoned Caldero drivers.
"We shouldn't have split the convoy," Nora signed to Evelyn, her stomach knotting with an uneasy intuition as they passed beneath the flickering amber streetlights of the deserted industrial district.
Evelyn reached over, patting Nora’s knee gently. Vincent is thorough. We are five minutes from the private terminal.
Suddenly, the world spun into violent chaos.
A heavy flatbed commercial truck, running with its headlights off, blew through a red light at the intersection, ramming the driver’s side of their armored vehicle with catastrophic force.
Metal screeched against metal. The car was thrown sideways, spinning twice across the wet asphalt before slamming hard into the concrete support pillar of an elevated rail line.
The side airbags deployed with a deafening bang. Nora’s head snapped back, stars exploding across her vision as the sickening smell of burning rubber and chemical propellant filled the cabin.
"Evelyn!" Nora cried out, coughing through the haze.
Beside her, Evelyn was groggy, dazed from the impact, a cut bleeding across her forehead, but she was conscious.
Outside, the screech of tires signaled the arrival of two black vans. Men in tactical gear poured out, sledgehammers and hydraulic rescue spreaders in their hands. The Caldero drivers in the front seat were unconscious, slumped against their steering wheels.
The rear window of the reinforced sedan was assaulted with high-powered mechanical wedges. Within seconds, the armored door was pried open with a violent metallic snap.
A masked man reached inside, grabbing Evelyn by the arm.
"No!" Nora screamed.
Driven entirely by adrenaline and fierce protective instinct, Nora grabbed an emergency heavy-duty steel flashlight from the floorboard pocket and slammed it with all her strength against the man's temple. He grunted, stumbling backward onto the wet street.
Another man lunged forward, grabbing Nora by her throat, dragging her brutally out of the wreckage into the freezing rain.
"Leave the old woman!" a voice barked from the darkness—Bellandi’s voice, raspy and manic with panic. "We take the girl! The girl is the voice! Without her, the Caldero dog loses his mind. Move! Move!"
Evelyn threw herself forward from the wrecked car, her hands reaching out in desperation, her mouth opening in a silent, heartbreaking scream of agony as she watched Nora being dragged through the rain.
Nora fought violently, kicking and thrashing against the two men holding her, her heels scraping across the slick pavement. As they dragged her toward the open doors of the black van, she locked eyes with Evelyn through the pouring rain.
Using every ounce of will she possessed, Nora forced her hands free for two critical seconds, signing frantically into the headlights before the men threw a burlap sack over her head:
May you like
Terminal 7. Old icehouse. Tell Vincent I love him.
The sliding door slammed shut, and the van tore away into the black Rhode Island night, leaving Evelyn Caldero kneeling alone on the wet asphalt, her heart shattered, but her mind ignited with a deadly, unstoppable purpose.
