Chapter 8 - The Mutiny
"Drop the weapon, Mateo," a harsh, familiar voice echoed through the smoke-filled corridor.
A tall, heavily scarred man walked to the front of the tactical strike team, holding an assault rifle casually in his hands.
It was Dante Vitiello, Mateo's own uncle and Salvatore's deeply bitter younger brother.
"You are committing treason against the family, Dante," Mateo warned, keeping his body positioned entirely in front of mine.
"Salvatore is weak, and he has gone soft trying to protect this Romano trash," Dante spat, gesturing toward me with pure disgust.
"I made a deal with Lorenzo to hand the girl over in exchange for complete control of the Chicago territory."
Mateo did not waste another second trying to negotiate with a traitor.
He fired three rapid shots, hitting the heavy fire-suppression pipes running along the ceiling above the tactical team.
Highly pressurized white foam exploded downward, blinding Dante and his men in a chaotic, slippery mess.
"Run!" Mateo yelled, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the back wall of the titanium vault.
He pressed a hidden button underneath the metal folding chair, and a secret panel in the wall slid smoothly open.
We dove into the pitch-black tunnel just as Dante's men began blindly firing their automatic weapons into the vault.
Mateo slammed the heavy steel panel shut behind us, plunging us into total, suffocating darkness.
We scrambled down a steep, rusted iron ladder, descending deep into the forgotten prohibition-era smuggling tunnels beneath the city.
The air was damp and smelled heavily of mildew and old earth, but it was the only thing keeping us alive.
We ran blindly for what felt like hours, guided only by the small, dim flashlight on Mateo's cell phone.
I finally collapsed against the cold brick wall, my bare feet bleeding and my beautiful emerald gown torn to shreds.
Mateo immediately dropped to his knees in front of me, checking my body frantically for any injuries.
"I am fine, I just need to breathe," I gasped, leaning my head back against the damp brick.
Mateo let out a heavy sigh of relief, sitting on the dirt floor next to me and pulling me gently into his side.
We sat in the dark silence, the adrenaline slowly fading away to leave us completely exhausted and vulnerable.
I rested my head on his broad shoulder, realizing that despite his terrifying reputation, I felt entirely safe in his arms.
"We have to get to my private safehouse before Dante realizes we are heading for the surface," Mateo said softly, stroking my messy hair.
I nodded, shifting my weight to stand up, but a sudden, sharp pain flared fiercely in my upper arm.
I reached up to touch my shoulder, feeling a warm, sticky liquid soaking through the torn silk of my dress.
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I pulled my hand back into the dim light of the phone screen, my stomach dropping violently at the sight.
My hand was completely covered in dark red blood, and I realized I had been shot during the escape from the vault.
