Chapter 29 - The Catacombs of Iron
The Grand Horizon Hotel was a towering monument of glass, marble, and polished brass, glowing like a golden beacon against the midnight sky. Champagne flowed in crystal flutes, string quartets played softly from the mezzanine, and the city's most powerful figures mingled in silk gowns and bespoke tuxedos, entirely oblivious to the abyss beneath their feet.
I walked through the gilded double doors on Luca's arm, wearing an emerald-green silk evening gown that hid the combat dagger strapped to my inner thigh. Luca was the picture of lethal elegance in a tailored black tuxedo, his hair slicked back, his expression radiating untouchable authority.
Every eye in the room turned toward us. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through dry grass.
*“Is that Moretti? I thought the docks were hit tonight...”*
*“Who is the girl? The housekeeper's daughter? She looks like an empress...”*
Luca didn't spare them a glance. He leaned down, whispering against my ear as we took two glasses of champagne from a passing silver tray. "Dominic is in position at the freight elevators. Security detail Alpha has tapped the hotel's basement surveillance. The power grid in the sub-basement is fluctuating. Arthur was right. They are down there."
"Where is the entrance to the vault conduit?" I asked beneath my breath, scanning the crowd.
"Behind the grand kitchen's wine cellar," Luca replied. "An old service tunnel Arthur retrofitted during the foundation pour."
Suddenly, the quartet stopped playing.
The ambient chatter of the ballroom died down as the heavy double doors of the private VIP lounge on the mezzanine creaked open.
Flanked by four men in tailored dark suits, an elderly man walked slowly down the sweeping marble staircase. He leaned on a silver-headed cane, but his posture was straight, commanding, and royal. Across his weathered, aristocratic chin was a thick, jagged scar.
Victor Vance.
He looked older, but his eyes were the same piercing, predatory gray from the thirty-year-old photograph. And pinned brazenly to the lapel of his tuxedo jacket was an identical tarnished brass key marked with the number *777*.
Our eyes met across the glittering room.
Victor didn't look surprised to see Luca. He didn't look alarmed by my presence. Instead, the old monster raised his champagne glass in our direction, a cold, mocking smirk playing on his lips.
He turned to the man beside him and whispered a command.
Instantly, the grand crystal chandeliers above the ballroom flickered once, twice—and exploded in a blinding shower of sparks, plunging the entire Grand Horizon into pitch-black darkness.
May you like
Screams tore through the ballroom. Chaos erupted as glass shattered and people trampled over tables in the dark.
"Clara! Down!" Luca shouted, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me behind an overturned mahogany banquet table as suppressed gunfire ripped through the gloom.
