Chapter 6
One of the enforcers immediately stepped out of the pantry, returning seconds later with a heavy, steel-headed sledgehammer. He handed it to Matthias. The mafia boss gripped the thick wooden handle, his tattooed fingers wrapping tightly around the worn grain. The heavy gold signet ring on his hand glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen pantry.
Lorna pulled Jamie back, shielding the boy’s body with her own and covering his ears to protect him from the impending noise.
Matthias stepped up to the dark oak paneling. He didn't hesitate. He swung the sledgehammer in a brutal, horizontal arc. The steel head smashed into the wood with a deafening, splintering crash. The expensive oak paneling shattered instantly, sending shards of wood and drywall exploding outward.
He swung again. And again. Each strike was fueled by four months of suppressed grief, calculated patience, and agonizing betrayal. The wall crumbled rapidly beneath his assault, raising a thick cloud of white plaster dust that coated his tailored dark three-piece suit and settled into his neatly trimmed stubble.
“Did you think a few inches of wood and plaster could stand against my wrath?” Matthias roared over the sound of the destruction, throwing the question back over his shoulder at Clarice.
As the dust began to settle, the true nature of the architecture was revealed. Behind the false oak paneling was not stone, but a heavy, reinforced iron door. It was an old Prohibition-era smuggling vault, long forgotten by the architectural plans but perfectly suited for a hidden prison. The brass ventilation grille Jamie had used was set directly into the bottom of this iron slab.
The door possessed no handle on the outside, only a heavy, modern industrial padlock securing a thick steel latch.
Matthias dropped the sledgehammer. It clattered loudly against the tiled floor. He walked over to Clarice, the plaster dust making him look like a vengeful ghost. He grabbed the front of her sculpted satin gown, hauling her off the prep table and dragging her until her face was inches from the iron door.
“Where is the key to this lock, Clarice? Do you possess it on your person, or must I break your fingers one by one until you tell me where it is hidden?”
Clarice sobbed hysterically, her immaculate makeup running down her face in dark, ugly streaks. “I don't have it! I swear to God, Matthias, I don't have it! He took it!”
Matthias’s cold eyes narrowed sharply. “Who took it? Are you suggesting you did not orchestrate this atrocity alone?”
Before Clarice could answer, Lorna stepped forward from the back of the pantry. Her sharp eyes, trained to notice the smallest details in the mansion, darted to the ornate bracelet heavy on Clarice’s wrist. Among the diamonds and silver charms, a small, oddly shaped brass key hung concealed beneath a decorative clasp.
“Is that not a padlock key hanging from her jewelry, Mr. Rook?” Lorna asked, her voice cutting clearly through Clarice’s hysterical sobbing.
Matthias looked down at Clarice’s wrist. Without a word, he grabbed the heavy, ornate bracelet and ripped it violently from her arm. The metal clasp snapped, cutting into Clarice’s fair skin and leaving a bright red mark. Clarice screamed, collapsing to her knees on the dusty floor.
Matthias isolated the small brass key from the broken jewelry. He stepped up to the heavy padlock, his heart pounding a violent rhythm against his ribs.
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“Shall we see what you have buried in the dark, Clarice?”
He slid the key into the padlock, turning it with a sharp, metallic click. The heavy latch fell away. Matthias gripped the edge of the iron door and pulled it open, plunging into the pitch-black abyss of the hidden room.
