Chapter 8: The Vault
She ran down the cream-carpeted hallway, heading for Matteo's study. But as she rounded the grand staircase, a gloved hand slammed violently over her mouth.
An arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the floor. The USB drive slipped from her fingers, skidding hopelessly under a console table.
“Snooping is a dangerous habit,” a low voice muttered.
Sylvio.
He dragged her backward into the library. Inside stood Mrs. Higgins, holding a limp, heavily drugged Leo in her arms. The boy's head lolled uselessly against her shoulder.
“You should have kept cleaning floors,” Mrs. Higgins sneered. “Take her downstairs.”
Sylvio dragged Cameron down into the penthouse's private wine cellar—a fortified bunker built of concrete and steel, sealed by a biometric lock. He threw her hard against the stone floor.
“Enjoy the quiet,” he mocked, and the heavy steel door clicked shut.
Panic threatened to choke her, but the image of Leo’s lifeless body burned in her mind. She stood up, her eyes scanning the room. The control panel for the door was encased in reinforced plastic. She had no tools, no weapons.
But poor girls knew that even expensive things could break.
Cameron walked to the back racks and grabbed a massive, heavy bottle of vintage Bordeaux. Wrapping her sweater around her hands to catch the glass, she swung the bottle like a bat.
May you like
Smash. The plastic cover cracked. Smash. The screen shattered. Smash. She slammed the heavy glass base into the exposed wires. Sparks flew, cutting her skin, and red wine flooded the floor like blood. Finally, the biometric lock short-circuited. The light turned green.
Cameron shoved the heavy door open and ran.
