Chapter 8 - The Spark
The red flare sizzled violently on the damp stone floor.
It landed only three feet away from a rapidly expanding puddle of gasoline pouring from the vents.
Evelyn knew they had less than ten seconds before the fumes ignited and vaporized them all.
Marco threw his massive body over Antonio, preparing to shield his boss from the impending blast.
Evelyn did not freeze.
She grabbed a vintage bottle of champagne from the nearest rack and smashed the neck against the stone wall.
She shook the broken bottle violently, covering the sputtering red flare in a massive wave of pressurized foam and liquid.
The flare hissed loudly and extinguished, plunging the cellar back into darkness.
Marco let out a breath that sounded like a sob.
Evelyn did not stop moving.
She ran back to the high basement window, gripping the iron crowbar with bloody hands.
She swung it again, putting every ounce of her remaining strength into the strike.
This time, the reinforced glass shattered, letting freezing night air pour into the fume-filled room.
Marco lifted Antonio onto his good shoulder and helped him climb through the broken window.
Evelyn followed close behind, scraping her arms against the jagged glass as she pulled herself into the wet grass outside.
They were in the thick woods behind the castle, hidden by darkness and heavy rain.
The sound of gunfire in the courtyard was fading, replaced by the shouts of Mercer's men sweeping the perimeter.
Marco led them blindly through the trees, moving as fast as Antonio's weakened body would allow.
They reached a hidden dirt road where a secondary extraction vehicle was stashed under camouflage netting.
As Marco fumbled for the keys, the woods around them suddenly lit up with dozens of blinding tactical flashlights.
They were completely surrounded.
Doctor Mercer stepped out from behind a massive oak tree, flanked by mercenaries with raised rifles.
Mercer smiled and complimented Evelyn on her quick thinking with the champagne.
He raised his own pistol, aiming it directly at Antonio's head, and said the game was finally over.
Before Mercer could pull the trigger, the dark woods erupted in a storm of deafening gunfire.
It was not Mercer's men firing.
A fleet of black SUVs tore down the dirt road, heavily armed enforcers pouring out of them like shadows.
Antonio's loyalist reinforcements from Boston had arrived just in time.
Mercer's mercenaries were slaughtered in seconds, caught entirely off guard by the massive ambush.
Mercer tried to run, but Marco stepped forward and struck him across the face with the butt of his pistol.
The fake doctor collapsed into the mud, bleeding and gasping for air.
The loyalist troops quickly secured the area and bound Mercer's hands with heavy zip ties.
Antonio walked over to the defeated assassin, his posture radiating pure authority.
He demanded to know who in his family had hired the Calabrians to kill him.
Mercer looked up from the mud, spitting blood onto Antonio's expensive shoes.
He started laughing, a wet, horrifying sound that echoed through the quiet forest.
Mercer told Antonio that he was an absolute fool.
The Calabrian family had never hired him, and they had absolutely nothing to do with the poison on the airplane.
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Mercer looked directly at Evelyn and smiled.
He told Antonio that he was protecting the wrong person, because the call to authorize the hit came from Evelyn's own cell phone.
