Chapter 4 - The Ascent
The air inside the walls of the Duca mansion was thick with the scent of old wood and dust. The servant corridors—narrow, unlit passages built in the 19th century—ran like a hidden nervous system throughout the massive estate.
I moved like a ghost, wearing soft-soled shoes and carrying a small flashlight wrapped in a black cloth. In my pocket was a heavy brass spanner I’d picked up from the bunker’s tool rack—not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.
I reached the second-floor wall void directly behind Beatrice’s suite. Through the wooden slats of an air vent, I could hear her voice clearly.
"The lieutenants are getting restless, Marco," Beatrice was saying, her tone sharp and impatient. "If Lorenzo isn't confirmed dead by noon, rumors will spread that he escaped. The other families will smell weakness."
"He was shot at point-blank range, Beatrice!" Marco spat back. "He’s wounded, trapped on the grounds without medical help. He won't survive the night."
"Then find the corpse!" she barked. "And what about the maid and her child? Her quarters were empty when the guards checked."
My heart leaped into my throat.
"Probably ran away when the shooting started," Marco dismissed offhandedly. "We'll track her down tomorrow and clean it up. She doesn't know anything."
I know everything, I thought, slipping quietly away from the vent and continuing up the narrow wooden steps toward the attic.
The attic was pitch black and freezing cold, the sound of the rain outside pounding violently against the roof tiles. I crept past crates of vintage wine, forgotten furniture, and covered oil paintings, searching for the heavy metal junction box Lorenzo had described.
There it was—mounted beside the high arched window overlooking the courtyard.
I pried open the rusted box. Inside was a maze of copper wiring and a heavy industrial throw-switch labeled AUX COMM. It was rusted shut.
I jammed the brass spanner into the hinge mechanism and leveraged my body weight against it. The metal screeched in protest.
C'mon... c'mon...
With a sharp CRACK, the switch snapped into place. Down in the bunker, the encrypted radio signal was now broadcasting Lorenzo’s distress beacon directly to Capo Valenti.
I let out a ragged breath, stepping back—and immediately froze.
The floorboard behind me creaked.
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"Well, well," a voice purred from the shadows. "Look what we have here. The quiet little maid."
I spun around, bringing the flashlight up. The beam illuminated Marco’s chief lieutenant—a towering brute named Gianni—holding a suppressed pistol aimed directly at my chest.
