Chapter 6 - Fire in the Sublevel
“Move!” Dante shouted, shoving me behind him as a muffled crash echoed from the ground floor above us.
Orion didn’t hesitate. The massive black hound bolted ahead of us, clearing the concrete stairs two at a time like a streak of midnight lightning. Leo drew his weapon, covering our rear as we scrambled up from the vault level into the main lobby.
The scene that greeted us was a nightmare of shattered glass and swirling smoke. The front security doors had been blown inward, leaving a jagged frame of twisted steel. Through the haze, two figures in tactical gear emerged from the shadows, automatic rifles raised.
“Down!” Dante roared, tackling me to the marble floor just as a volley of suppressed gunfire chewed into the pillars above us.
*Crack-crack-crack!*
Marble chips rained down on our heads like lethal hail. Leo returned fire, his weapon snapping twice with ruthless precision. One of the tactical operatives staggered backward, dropping his rifle, while the second assailant dove behind a marble teller counter.
“Leo, take the flank!” Dante ordered, keeping me shielded beneath his broad shoulders. He didn’t panic; his voice was as steady as a metronome, terrifyingly calm in the middle of a firefight.
“I’m out of position, Boss! They’ve got us pinned!” Leo yelled over the ringing echoes of gunfire.
Orion let out a ferocious, guttural roar that didn’t sound like any dog I had ever heard. Before I could grab his collar, the hound charged across the open lobby straight toward the teller counter where the second gunman was reloading.
“Orion, no!” I screamed.
The gunman whipped around, bringing his rifle barrel down toward the charging animal. But Orion was too fast. With a massive leap, the hound slammed into the man’s chest like a freight train, sending him crashing backward over the glass partition. A sickening crunch echoed through the hall, followed by a muffled groan as the man’s weapon clattered uselessly across the floor.
Dante was on his feet in a second, pulling me up with him. “We go now. Before reinforcements arrive.”
“Where?” I gasped, my chest burning from the acrid smell of cordite and smoke.
“To my car. Move!”
We sprinted through the shattered entrance, stepping over broken glass and cold autumn debris. The black SUV was idling curbside, its engine roaring, courtesy of the driver who had kept the vehicle protected around the corner.
We piled into the back seat in a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. Orion jumped in last, his dark fur dusted with white drywall powder, his amber eyes bright and alert. He immediately pressed his head against my trembling shoulder, panting heavily.
The SUV peeled away from the curb just as a second set of headlights rounded the corner down the block.
Dante slammed the heavy armored door shut, locking it with a sharp click. He pulled the black leather journal and the flash drive from his coat, setting them on the console between us.
“Are you hurt?” Dante asked, turning his sharp gray eyes toward me. His gaze swept over my arms, my face, searching for any sign of blood.
“I’m... I’m fine,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around myself to stop the violent shaking. “Just... terrified. Who were those men?”
“Not federal agents,” Dante said grimly, his jaw tight. “And not freelance thugs. Those were clean kills. Corporate hit squads.”
“Because of the ledger?”
“Because of what’s written in it,” Dante corrected, opening the leather journal to the page we had looked at in the vault. He pointed a scarred finger at the name scribbled at the bottom. *Thomas.*
“Do you know who Thomas is?” I asked, leaning closer despite the danger.
May you like
Dante looked up from the page, his expression hardening into something dangerous.
“Thomas Vance,” Dante said softly. “Your grandfather. The man who supposedly died in a federal prison fire twenty-five years ago.”
