"SWAT's staging tactical entry," I heard one officer report into his radio. "Fifteen to twenty minutes for full breach readiness."
Too long. Way too long.
The estate's main gates stood open—Marco's fleeing guards had abandoned posts when the livestream exposed everything. I slipped through in the confusion, staying low, using landscaping for cover.
The servant's entrance Valentina had shown me during our infiltration weeks ago remained where I remembered—hiddenbehind overgrown hedges, electronic lock disabled by the power cut Marco had triggered.
Inside, the mansion felt like a mausoleum. Empty. Silent except for the distant sounds of police establishing a perimeter outside. Most of Marco's people had scattered the moment Valentina's livestream went public, rats fleeing a sinking ship.
I moved through familiar hallways with the Glock I'd taken from the guard, following sounds toward the study. My footsteps landed silently on the expensive carpet. Blood still dripping from my forehead, leaving a trail I didn't care about.
The study door stood open.
Marco had returned—kneeling outside the panic room, cutting torch in gloved hands, working frantically now. Blue flame ate steadily through reinforced metal. He'd made progress while he was gone. Maybe two minutes before he breached.
He sensed my presence and looked up. The cutting torch died with a hiss as he released the trigger.
For a moment, we just stared at each other—two men bound by blood debt that had twisted into something poisonous.
"Valestri." His voice remained steady despite everything crumbling around him. "Come to watch? Or help?"
I raised the Glock, sighted center mass. "Step away from the door, Marco."
"Or what? You'll shoot me in the back while police surround the house?" He stood slowly, setting down the torch with deliberate care. "That's not your style. Too honorable. Too bound by the old codes."
"You gave up the right to invoke those codes when you ordered me to murder your daughter."
"I invoked a blood debt." Marco's expression hardened. "You swore an oath. Instead, you kept her. Turned her against her own family."
"She was never safe with you. The blood debt was built on lies."
"Then settle it the old way." Marco spread his hands, challenge clear in his stance. "One-on-one combat. Winner takes everything. Under the old codes, you can't refuse without dishonor."
I saw the calculation behind the challenge. He was buying time. Waiting for something—a backup plan, an escape route, one of his remaining people to flank me.
"No," I said simply, keeping the Glock trained on him. "You don't get to die with honor. You tried to murder your own daughter. You get a cage."
Something flickered in his eyes—rage, desperation.
Then he moved.
Not toward me in challenge.
Toward the hidden door behind his bookshelf—another passage through the walls, just like Valentina had used.
His escape route.
I fired as he lunged. I caught his arm—he cursed but kept moving, already twisting through the opening.
"Fuck!"
I sprinted after him into the darkness.
The passage was narrow, walls pressing close, no light at all. Marco's footsteps echoed ahead—running, desperate.
He knew these passages. Had probably used them for decades, moving through his own house unseen.
I was blind.
