Chapter 5 – THE LASER SIGHT ON THE STAIRCASE

The soft, barely audible hiss coming from the ceiling vents suddenly sounded like a death rattle.

Thomas stared at the vent, his face turning entirely pale. He took a step back from the heavy steel door.

“He’s trying to suffocate us?” Thomas gasped.

“Dr. Bellini is a surgeon,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “He knows how long it takes for a room this size to fill with carbon monoxide. It’s odorless. We’ll just fall asleep and never wake up.”

Lily began to cough, though whether from fear or the beginning of the gas, I couldn’t tell.

“I have to open the door,” Thomas said, reaching for the handle again. “It’s the only way out!”

“If you open it, his men will shoot you, and they’ll take Lily!” I grabbed his arm again, desperate. “We have to stop the vents!”

I looked around the small, reinforced room. It was built to withstand a bomb, but it was essentially a concrete tomb if the air supply was compromised. There were two small vents near the ten-foot ceiling.

“Lift me up,” I ordered Thomas.

He hesitated, then crouched down, cupping his hands. I stepped into his palms, and he hoisted me upward.

Ignoring the agonizing pain in my left hand, I reached into my apron and pulled out the blood-soaked linen bandage. I shoved the thick cloth tightly into the metal grating of the first vent, blocking the airflow.

“Hand me your jacket!” I yelled down.

Thomas quickly stripped off his suit jacket and handed it up to me. I jammed the sleeves and heavy fabric into the second vent.

The hissing sound stopped.

Thomas lowered me to the floor. I collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.

“That will buy us time,” I panted. “But we have to find another way out.”

“There is no other way out,” Thomas said, his voice devoid of hope. “It’s a panic room. It only opens from the inside.”

I looked at Lily. She was clutching the gold pocket watch, her small fingers tracing the intricate engraving.

“My daddy gave this to me,” Lily whispered, looking at Thomas.

Thomas knelt beside her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I know, sweetie. And your other daddy wants you to have it, too.”

Lily looked confused. “My other daddy?”

Before Thomas could explain the complicated, tragic truth to the nine-year-old, the lights in the safe room suddenly flickered and died.

We were plunged into pitch-black darkness.

“Lily, stay right there,” Thomas said, his voice tight with fear.

I fumbled in my apron for my phone, turning on the flashlight app. The pale beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the terrified faces of the man and the child.

“They cut the main power,” I said. “The backup generator should have kicked in.”

“Vanessa knows the security protocols,” Thomas said bitterly. “She probably disabled the generator.”

The air in the room was already growing warm and stale. Blocking the vents stopped the poison, but it also stopped our oxygen supply. We had maybe thirty minutes before we suffocated naturally.

I shined the flashlight around the room, desperately looking for an access panel, a hidden hatch, anything.

The beam landed on the small metal desk in the corner.

Resting on top of it was a framed photograph.

I walked over and picked it up.

It was a picture of Luca and Caroline, taken on their wedding day. They were smiling, radiantly happy.

But it wasn’t the picture that caught my attention. It was the frame itself.

The heavy silver frame had a small, strange keyhole on the back of it.

“Thomas,” I said, bringing the frame over. “Look at this.”

Thomas examined the back of the frame. “It’s a biometric lock. A physical override.”

“Override for what?” I asked.

“Some panic rooms have a secondary escape hatch built into the floor, leading to the old prohibition tunnels,” Thomas explained. “But you need the physical key to unlock it. The digital keypad won’t work without power.”

I looked around the room. “Where is the key?”

Thomas shook his head. “A man like Luca Moretti wouldn’t leave the key inside the room. He’d keep it on him.”

My heart sank. Luca was outside, fighting an entire squad of armed mercenaries. We were trapped.

Then, Lily spoke.

“Is this a key?” she asked softly in the dark.

I shined the flashlight on her.

Lily was holding up the heavy gold pocket watch Luca had given her.

She had popped the front cover open.

But it wasn’t a standard watch face inside.

Where the clock hands should have been, there was a uniquely carved, cylindrical piece of solid gold.

It was a key.

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