Chapter 4 - The Pier
Luca stared at the bloody message on the concrete floor.
His expression hardened into a mask of pure, lethal fury.
He knelt beside the dead guard, checking for a pulse he already knew wasn't there.
He gently closed the man's lifeless eyes.
“He was twenty-four,” Luca whispered, a rare crack of emotion slipping into his voice.
“He had a newborn daughter.”
Sophie stood near the door, her hands trembling as she looked at the violent reality of Luca’s world.
She had always known he was dangerous, but she had never seen the consequences up close.
Luca stood up, his jaw set in cold determination.
He pulled a heavy, black pistol from a hidden holster at the small of his back.
He checked the magazine with terrifying, practiced efficiency.
“We are going to Pier 42,” Luca stated.
“I'm coming with you,” Sophie replied instantly.
Luca looked at her, his eyes narrowing.
“No.”
“You are a civilian.”
“You are going to stay hidden in the staff quarters until my loyal men secure the estate.”
Sophie shook her head fiercely.
“Vanessa knows I saw your mother.”
“If I stay here, she will find me.”
“And your mother trusted me to help her.”
“I’m not abandoning her now.”
Luca studied the determined fire in the young maid’s eyes.
He saw the bruises on her collarbone, a testament to her loyalty.
He nodded once, accepting her terms.
They moved silently through the service corridors, avoiding the main floor where the gala was in full swing.
The muffled sounds of classical music and wealthy laughter drifted down through the ceiling.
It was a sickening contrast to the blood on the cellar floor.
They reached the underground parking garage and slipped into a sleek, unmarked black SUV.
Luca drove like a madman, weaving through the rain-slicked streets of New York with deadly precision.
The drive to the docks took less than twenty minutes.
Pier 42 was completely desolate, illuminated only by flickering yellow sodium lights.
Rows of massive, rust-colored shipping containers were stacked three stories high, creating a labyrinth of steel.
Luca parked the SUV a block away, cutting the headlights.
He handed Sophie a small, silver flashlight.
“Stay exactly behind me,” he ordered.
“Do not turn that light on unless I tell you to.”
They moved through the heavy rain, slipping between the towering stacks of containers.
The smell of salt, diesel, and rotting seaweed filled the cold night air.
They reached the far end of the pier, where a single, massive blue container sat isolated from the rest.
A heavy industrial padlock secured the steel doors.
Standing directly in front of the container was Vanessa.
She was holding an umbrella, flanked by three heavily armed men in dark tactical gear.
Kneeling in the wet gravel before them was Mrs. Moretti, her hands bound with plastic ties.
Luca raised his pistol and stepped out from the shadows.
“Let her go, Vanessa.”
His voice cut through the sound of the falling rain like a razor blade.
Vanessa did not look surprised.
She smiled, a cold, calculated expression that made Sophie’s blood run cold.
“Luca,” Vanessa said calmly.
“I’m genuinely impressed you made it out of the basement.”
“You always were a survivor.”
Luca kept his gun leveled at Vanessa’s head.
“Where is Matteo?”
Vanessa laughed, a hollow sound that echoed off the steel containers.
“Matteo?”
“Your brother died of a drug overdose in a cheap motel in Las Vegas three years ago, Luca.”
Luca froze, his eyes widening in absolute shock.
Vanessa stepped closer to the kneeling older woman and pulled a gun from her coat.
She aimed it directly at Mrs. Moretti's head.
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“Matteo isn't the one trying to open the Blue Door, Luca.”
“I am.”
