Chapter 18 - The Safehouse
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Matteo drove aggressively through the dark city streets, paranoia gnawing at the edges of his mind. If the Architect was someone from his old inner circle, then the underground clinic wasn't secure. Nowhere was secure.
He arrived at the clinic and bypassed the remaining guards. He found Lena sitting in the small, sterile room, nervously shredding a paper cup with her fingers. When she saw him, she stood up, relief washing over her face.
“Is it done?” she asked, searching his eyes for the monster she had seen earlier.
“Victor is dead,” Matteo said gently, pulling her into a tight embrace. “But it isn't over. Victor was a puppet. Someone else pulled the strings, and I don't know who to trust.”
Lena pulled back, looking at his bloody, soot-stained clothes. “What do you mean? Your men—”
“My men might be working for whoever set this up,” Matteo interrupted, grabbing her coat and draping it over her shoulders. “We have to leave. Now. I have a secondary safehouse, a cabin deep in the northern woods. Only one person in the world knows about it, and it isn't anyone in my crew.”
“Who knows about it?” Lena asked as they hurried out the back exit of the clinic, avoiding the guards in the front lobby.
“My brother,” Matteo said quietly.
Lena stopped in the alleyway, the rain soaking her hair. “Your brother? Matteo, you told me your brother died in a car accident ten years ago.”
“I lied,” Matteo said, unlocking a stolen sedan he had pre-stashed in the alley for emergencies. “My brother, Luca, was the heir to the family before me. He didn't die in a crash. He tried to sell out the family to a rival cartel. My father ordered the hit. I was supposed to pull the trigger.”
Lena stared at him in horror. “Did you?”
“I couldn't,” Matteo confessed, starting the engine. “I shot him in the leg, gave him a bag of cash, and told him to disappear to Europe. I told the family he was dead. If he’s still alive, he might be the only person outside of this mess I can trust to hide you.”
As the sedan sped out of the city and onto the dark, winding highway heading north, Matteo’s burner phone rang. It was Silvio, the accountant.
“Boss, I found the money trail,” Silvio said, his voice trembling. “The shell company supplying Victor... it’s registered in Geneva, Switzerland. Under the name L. Rossi.”
Matteo slammed on the brakes, the sedan skidding violently on the wet asphalt before coming to a stop on the shoulder of the highway.
“Luca,” Matteo whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow.
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His brother hadn't stayed in hiding. His brother was the Architect. And Matteo was driving his wife directly into the one place Luca knew about.
Before Matteo could turn the car around, a massive spotlight flared from the trees ahead, blinding them. Two black SUVs blocked the highway, cutting off their escape.
