Chapter 8
The smoke in the garden was thick and acrid, burning the back of Alessio's throat as he sprinted toward the shattered glass doors of the greenhouse. He practically dragged Claudia behind him by the arm, forcing her to carry the heavy steel lockbox containing the evidence of her treason. Gianni flanked them, his weapon raised, eyes scanning the broken roof of the conservatory for snipers.
Inside the greenhouse, the humid, tropical air was suffocating. Bullets had shattered hundreds of the glass panes, leaving a jagged, dangerous canopy above them. The vibrant orchids and towering ferns that his wife had cultivated for over a decade were trampled and ruined.
"Through the service corridor!" Alessio barked, pointing toward a reinforced steel door at the back of the greenhouse that led directly into the mansion's basement levels.
Gianni moved to the point, kicking the door open and slicing the dark hallway with the beam of his weapon light. The sounds of the massacre upstairs echoed down the stairwell—the shouts of dying men, the crash of antique furniture, and the relentless staccato of gunfire. Alessio’s empire was burning to the ground above their heads.
Alessio pushed Claudia ahead of him. "Keep moving. If you drop that box, I will shoot you where you stand."
Claudia sobbed, her high heels snapping off as she stumbled down the concrete stairs into the gloom of the wine cellar.
The cellar was massive, lined with thousands of dusty bottles of imported vintages. At the far end of the room, hidden behind a false wall of empty wine casks, was the entrance to the old prohibition-era smuggling tunnels.
As they reached the center of the cellar, the heavy oak doors at the top of the stairs blew violently off their hinges.
A squad of five mercenaries stormed down the steps, their tactical boots thundering against the concrete. They spotted Alessio instantly and raised their weapons.
"Take cover!" Gianni roared.
Alessio shoved Claudia hard to the ground behind a massive, solid oak tasting table and dove beside her just as a hail of bullets shredded the room. Hundreds of glass wine bottles exploded in rapid succession, raining a torrential downpour of dark red vintage wine and jagged glass across the stone floor. The smell of aged alcohol was instantly overpowering.
Gianni returned fire from behind a row of barrels, dropping the point man, but the mercenaries immediately pinned him down with overwhelming suppressing fire.
"We're trapped!" Claudia shrieked, covering her head as bullets chipped the concrete floor inches from her face. "They're going to kill us!"
Alessio ignored her panic. His mind was racing, calculating angles and environmental advantages. The air in the unventilated cellar was rapidly filling with aerosolized, high-proof alcohol from the shattered bottles.
He looked at Gianni across the aisle. Gianni was bleeding from a graze on his shoulder, his ammunition running low.
"Gianni!" Alessio shouted over the gunfire. "The high-proof casks on the top rack! Shoot them out!"
Gianni didn't question the order. He swung his weapon upward and fired a sustained burst into the massive wooden vats of imported, over-proof spirits sitting directly above the mercenaries' position. The wood splintered, and hundreds of gallons of highly flammable liquid cascaded down the stone stairs, soaking the attackers' boots and tactical gear.
Alessio reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his silver vintage lighter—a gift from his late wife.
He flicked the heavy lid open. The small flame illuminated his hardened, ruthless face in the darkness.
"Close your eyes, Claudia," Alessio whispered.
He tossed the open lighter across the floor, directly into the rushing river of spilled alcohol.
May you like
The cellar erupted. A massive wall of roaring blue and orange flame raced up the stairs in a fraction of a second. The mercenaries didn't even have time to scream before the inferno consumed them entirely, turning the staircase into a deadly, impassable furnace.
"Move!" Alessio ordered, hauling Claudia up. "To the tunnels! Now!"
