Chapter 5 - The Escape through the Tunnels
The air inside the tunnel was cold, damp, and thick with the smell of old stone and moss.
Luca led the way with quick, decisive strides, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the oppressive darkness. Grace held tightly to his hand, her other hand resting on Titan’s broad neck as the massive dog trotted loyally beside her.
Above them, the muffled sounds of gunfire and heavy explosions rattled the dust from the concrete ceiling.
"How long is this tunnel?" Grace panted, her shoes slipping slightly on the slick damp floor.
"It runs three hundred yards east, under the outer perimeter wall, emerging inside an old boathouse on the Hudson River," Luca explained without breaking his pace. "I have a vehicle staged there."
"Where are we going?"
"Albany," Luca answered firmly. "If Vance is throwing this much firepower at my estate, it means he’s desperate. He knows we have the key. We have to reach your father's property before Vance’s men realize where the coordinates lead."
They reached the end of the tunnel five minutes later. Luca carefully pushed open a heavy iron grate hidden behind a stack of rotting wooden crates inside the abandoned boathouse.
The cool night air of the Hudson River rushed into the tunnel. Outside, the rain was beginning to fall in heavy, rhythmic sheets, blurring the lights of the distant Manhattan skyline across the dark water.
Parked inside the boathouse was a matte-black, armored SUV.
Luca unlocked the doors, gesturing for Grace and Titan to get into the back. As Grace climbed into the leather seat, Titan leaped in right beside her, resting his head heavily across her lap as if declaring himself her personal shield.
Luca climbed into the driver’s seat, hit the engine start button, and the powerful V8 motor roared to life with a deep, muffled rumble.
He slammed the vehicle into gear, bursting through the wooden boathouse doors and pulling onto a dark, unlit access road that wound up toward the main highway.
In the rearview mirror, Grace looked back toward the Moretti estate. Plumes of black smoke were rising into the stormy night sky above the trees, illuminated by flashes of emergency lights.
"Your home..." Grace whispered softly.
Luca glanced at her in the mirror, his dark eyes resolute. "My father taught me that a home is just a fortress until you fill it with something worth protecting. For twelve years, I thought I was just protecting a dead man’s secret. Now I know I’m protecting his daughter."
Grace looked down at the silver oak-leaf key in her palm. The weight of it felt immense—a physical bridge connecting her painful past to an uncertain, dangerous future.
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"Luca," she asked softly as the SUV merged onto Interstate 87 heading north toward Albany. "Do you really believe my father is still alive out there?"
Luca kept his eyes on the rain-swept highway ahead. "Samuel Walker survived Vance’s assassins twelve years ago, Grace. A man who could design a lock like that doesn't die quietly. He’s waiting for us."
