Chapter 4 - The Scent of Blood and Bordeaux
The air inside the wine cellar of Blackthorn Manor was cold, smelling of damp earth, old oak, and vintage grapes.
Liam Mercer shone his tactical flashlight across the rows of dusty wine bottles, the beam of light cutting through the shadows. I walked beside him, wrapped in a thick wool coat to protect my healing back from the chill. My father’s security team guarded the entrance above, their weapons ready.
"This is the rack," I said, pointing to the far corner of the brick-lined cellar where the most expensive bottles of Bordeaux were kept.
Liam stepped forward, carefully removing three bottles from the center shelf. Behind them lay a small, sleek black panel with a glowing blue biometric scanner.
"It needs his fingerprint," Liam murmured, studying the device. "Or his retina. We don't have either."
"We don't need them," I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, silicone mold. "Two weeks ago, while Nathan was sleeping after a bottle of whiskey, I used a high-density gel kit to copy his thumbprint while he lay unconscious. I knew I’d need it eventually."
Liam looked at me, a low, appreciative whistle escaping his lips. "You really are Arthur Vance’s daughter, aren't you?"
"I'm a survivor, Liam," I said, pressing the silicone mold onto the scanner.
The device let out a soft, high-pitched beep, and the brick wall clicked, sliding back to reveal a hidden steel compartment. Inside lay a sleek, carbon-fiber laptop and a thick, leather-bound ledger.
Liam reached in, grabbing both items with gloved hands. "This is it. The keys to the kingdom."
But before we could turn to leave, the heavy iron door at the top of the cellar stairs slammed shut with a deafening, metallic crash.
The lights in the cellar immediately went dark, plunging us into absolute blackness.
"Liam!" I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat.
"Stay down, Luna!" Liam hissed, his hand instantly finding mine in the dark, pulling me behind a heavy oak wine barrel as he drew his weapon.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the stone steps—slow, deliberate, and entirely too familiar.
"Did you really think I’d leave my most valuable assets unguarded, Luna?" a voice callously drifted through the dark.
It wasn't Nathan.
It was Celeste.
The beam of a flashlight illuminated the cellar, revealing Celeste standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was no longer wearing her elegant white dress. She wore dark tactical gear, a heavy automatic pistol held in her hand with practiced ease. Behind her stood two large, muscular men carrying assault rifles.
"Celeste," I spat, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "How are you out? You were in federal holding."
"Oh, sweetie," Celeste laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Money can buy a lot of things in this city. But foreign diplomatic pressure can buy a signature on a release form in thirty minutes. Nathan is still in his cell, of course. The idiot served his purpose, but he’s too much of a liability now. I'm here to clean up the mess and take what belongs to me."
She aimed her weapon toward our hiding spot. "Hand over the laptop, Luna. And maybe I’ll make your death look like an accident this time."
"You're insane, Celeste," Liam called out from behind the barrel, his voice calm and steady despite the odds. "You have two federal agents outside. You won't make it out of the driveway."
"Your agents are currently sleeping on the lawn, Mr. Mercer," Celeste said, her voice turning deadly cold. "My boys are very efficient. Now, I’m going to count to three. One..."
Liam looked at me, his green eyes burning in the dim light reflection. He squeezed my hand. "On three, I want you to drop to the floor. Don't look back."
"Two..."
Liam didn't wait for three.
He lunged out from behind the barrel, firing three rapid shots toward Celeste's men.
The cellar erupted into a chaotic, deafening symphony of gunfire. The sound of bullets shattering wine bottles filled the air, sending a rain of glass and dark red wine pouring over the brick floor like a river of blood.
I dropped to the ground, crawling through the wet, glass-strewn floor toward the back of the rack, my hands scraping against the sharp shards, but I didn't care. I had to survive.
One of Celeste’s men let out a sharp cry, collapsing onto the floor as Liam's bullet found his shoulder. But the second man returned fire, a heavy burst of automatic rounds tearing through the oak barrels, spraying aged wine into the air.
Liam was pinned behind a stone pillar, his ammunition running low.
"Give me the laptop!" Celeste screamed, her face twisted in a manic, desperate rage as she fired wildly toward my hiding spot.
I looked around the dark floor, my hand striking a heavy, dusty bottle of Champagne.
I gripped the neck of the bottle, waiting for the sound of Celeste's weapon clicking empty.
Click.
She was reloading.
With every ounce of strength I had, I swung the heavy bottle upward, striking Celeste directly across her knee.
A sickening crack echoed through the cellar as Celeste shrieked in agony, her leg buckling beneath her as she crashed onto the wet floor. The automatic pistol slipped from her hand, sliding across the dark brick.
May you like
I scrambled forward, grabbing the weapon and aiming it directly at her forehead.
"Move," I gasped, my breathing ragged, my hair soaked in wine and sweat, "and I'll show you exactly how many lashes two hundred feels like."
