Chapter 6
The holding room in the cellar was a stark contrast to the opulent mansion above. Concrete walls, a single glaring overhead bulb, and a heavy steel table bolted to the floor. Celine sat in a metal chair, her midnight-blue evening gown stained with tears and smeared makeup. She looked up in sheer terror as the heavy steel door swung open.
Bastian stepped into the room. The harsh light highlighted the sharp angles of his face and the refined tattoos on his hands. He did not sit. He stood on the opposite side of the table, looking down at her as if she were a stranger.
“Bastian, thank God!” Celine sobbed, reaching across the table. Her diamond engagement ring flashed in the ugly light. “You have to listen to me! They made me do it!”
“Did they hold a gun to your head while you placed the patch on the leather, Celine?” Bastian asked, his voice deathly quiet.
Celine recoiled, pulling her hands back to her chest. “They took my brother, Bastian! The Morettis snatched him in Rome. They said they would mail him back to me in pieces if I didn’t give you the watch tonight.”
“Is your brother’s life worth the life of my son?” Bastian inquired, his eyes completely devoid of sympathy.
“They promised Felix wouldn’t be hurt!” Celine cried frantically. “They said it was tailored to your biometrics! It was only meant for you. Once you were gone, they were going to let me and Felix leave the country. I was trying to save us!”
“Do you honestly believe the Morettis leave loose ends, Celine?” Bastian asked, leaning slightly over the table. “Do you think a child with my blood would have been allowed to live out his days in peace?”
Celine sobbed uncontrollably, hiding her face in her hands. “I was terrified! I didn’t know what else to do! I loved you, but I couldn’t let my brother die!”
“If you were so terrified, why were you smiling when you handed me the box?” Bastian asked.
The question severed the last string of Celine’s defense. She looked up, her face a mask of ruined beauty. The truth hung in the cold, damp air of the cellar. It wasn't just about her brother. It was about power. It was about the money. She had made a calculated bet, and she had lost.
“Are you going to kill me?” Celine whispered, her voice entirely hollow.
“Would killing you undo the betrayal?” Bastian asked, straightening up and buttoning his suit jacket.
Before she could answer, a massive explosion shook the foundation of the mansion. The harsh bulb above them flickered aggressively before dying completely, plunging the cellar into pitch darkness. The heavy, muffled sound of automatic gunfire echoed from the floors above.
The Morettis hadn't waited for confirmation. They were storming the estate.
“Did you give them the security codes to the perimeter, Celine?” Bastian asked in the dark.
“I gave them everything!” Celine screamed into the blackness, hysterical. “They’re here, Bastian! They’re going to kill us all!”
The heavy steel door groaned as Bastian pushed it open, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway on emergency power. He didn't bother locking the door behind him. Celine was no longer a threat; she was just a ghost in a blue dress.
Bastian pulled a heavy, matte-black sidearm from the holster concealed beneath his tailored suit. He stared up the stairwell, listening to the shouts of his men and the shattering of crystal above.
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“Silas, what is our status?” Bastian asked into his earpiece.
“They breached the west wing! Heavy numbers!” Silas yelled over the comms, accompanied by the deafening crack of rifle fire. “They’re making a push for the study!”
