Chương 7 - The Dark Fortress
The bunker was buried in suffocating darkness.
The hum of the servers died, replaced by the terrifying silence of a severed power grid.
Damian immediately pulled Tessa behind the heavy oak desk, shielding her body with his own.
He pulled a high-powered tactical flashlight from his belt, illuminating the locked steel door.
"He played us," Damian hissed, his voice tight with fury. "The diner footage was pre-recorded. He’s been in the system for hours."
Tessa clung to his jacket, her heart pounding so loudly she felt it in her teeth.
"How did he get past your guards?" she whispered.
"He didn't," Damian replied grimly. "He bought someone on the inside who planted a virus in the mainframe."
Damian quickly entered an override code into the manual keypad on the wall.
The heavy steel door groaned and slid open manually, revealing the dark, silent basement hallway.
The emergency red backup lights flickered to life, casting an eerie, bloody glow over the concrete walls.
Damian moved with lethal precision, his Glock raised, sweeping every corner before gesturing for Tessa to follow.
"We need to get to my mother," Damian ordered, heading toward the hidden stairwell.
"If the system is down, the electronic locks on her door are disabled."
They crept up the narrow stairs, the silence of the massive estate pressing down on them.
As they reached the first-floor landing, a brutal firefight erupted in the west wing.
The sound of automatic gunfire echoed through the vaulted ceilings, accompanied by the shouts of Damian's men fighting desperately in the dark.
Ivan had brought a small army.
Damian didn't run toward the fight. He turned toward the East Wing, his priority solely on Beatrice.
They sprinted down the long corridor, their shadows dancing wildly in the red emergency lights.
When they reached Room 104, Damian’s blood ran completely cold.
The door was wide open, and the two guards stationed outside were slumped on the floor in growing pools of blood.
Damian burst into the room, sweeping the flashlight across the bed.
It was empty.
Beatrice was gone.
Tessa let out a choked gasp, covering her mouth with both hands.
"He took her," Tessa sobbed, the guilt crashing down on her like a physical weight.
"This is my fault. If I had never come here—"
"Stop," Damian barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
He walked over to the bed, shining the light on a small piece of heavy parchment paper left on the pillows.
It was a note, written in elegant script.
Bring the girl to the roof. You have five minutes before I throw the old woman off the edge.
Damian crushed the paper in his fist, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped.
He turned to Tessa, his eyes entirely devoid of warmth.
He was no longer the man who had offered her a safe haven. He was the monster who ruled the city.
"Stay here," Damian ordered, racking the slide of his gun.
"No," Tessa argued, stepping forward. "He wants me. If I don't go, he'll kill her just to punish you."
"I am not trading you for my mother," Damian growled, his voice deadly quiet. "I am going up there to kill every single person standing on my roof."
Tessa didn't back down.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her.
"You can't shoot Ivan if he's holding her," Tessa said fiercely. "You need a distraction. I am the distraction."
Damian stared at her, seeing the absolute conviction in her eyes.
She was terrified, but she was willing to walk into the fire anyway.
Damian nodded slowly, a dark, dangerous promise settling between them.
"Stay behind me until I say otherwise," Damian instructed.
They moved toward the private elevator, forcing the doors open manually and climbing the maintenance ladder in total darkness.
When they kicked open the heavy roof access door, the wind howled around them, whipping Tessa's hair wildly.
The roof of the Costa estate was a massive expanse of flat concrete overlooking the jagged cliffs and the churning ocean below.
Standing at the very edge of the precipice, illuminated by the moonlight, was Ivan Volkov.
He held a terrified, sobbing Beatrice by the collar of her nightgown, dangling her precariously close to the terrifying drop.
Five heavily armed Bratva soldiers stood between Ivan and the roof access door, their rifles trained directly on Damian.
Ivan smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dark.
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"Ah, the happy couple arrives," Ivan shouted over the wind.
"Drop the gun, Damian, or I send your mother flying into the sea."
