Chapter 9 - The Breach in the Basement
The heavy steel door of the basement holding room stood wide open when we reached the lower level.
The air down here was always cold, smelling of damp concrete and old brick, but tonight it carried the metallic tang of fresh blood. Two of Dante’s armed guards were slumped against the corridor wall, unconscious, their breathing heavy from a fast-acting chemical sedative.
Dante drew his weapon instantly, pulling me slightly behind his broad shoulder as we stepped through the doorway.
Inside the small, reinforced cell, the intruder we had captured in the pantry was sprawled awkwardly across the concrete floor. His head was twisted at an unnatural angle, and a pool of dark blood was spreading slowly from beneath his chest. A single, clean-cut knife wound was planted squarely between his shoulder blades.
Mateo stood over the body, his face pale, holding a bloodstained handkerchief in his gloved hand.
“He’s dead, Boss,” Mateo reported, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to stay composed. “Whoever did this didn't break in from the outside. They were already inside the estate. They used a service tunnel passkey to get down here before we could interrogate him.”
Dante walked slowly into the cell, kneeling beside the dead man. He checked the pulse at the neck, already knowing it was useless, then reached into the dead man’s tactical jacket and pulled out a small, encrypted burner phone. The screen was still lit, displaying a single outgoing text message sent just three minutes ago: ‘Package secured. The girl knows nothing.’
“They silenced him before he could talk,” Dante murmured, standing up slowly. He looked at Mateo with eyes like shards of black ice. “Which means there is a mole in this house. Someone with high-level clearance who knew exactly where we were keeping him.”
My chest tightened as I looked at the lifeless body on the floor. Just hours ago, I had been a simple cleaning lady worried about rent and childcare. Now, I was standing in a syndicate basement looking at a murdered man, holding the secrets that had killed Dante’s wife, while someone inside the very walls we lived in was watching our every move.
“It wasn't just him,” I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence of the basement.
Both Dante and Mateo turned to look at me.
“What do you mean, Rosa?” Dante asked, his tone softening slightly as he stepped toward me.
“When the man grabbed Sophia in the pantry, he didn't just mention the ledger,” I said, my thoughts racing back to the terrified seconds of the attack. “He called her ‘the brat,’ but right before he grabbed her, he looked at Mrs. Gable. He didn't look surprised to see her. He looked at her like she was late.”
Mateo’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Gable? The head housekeeper has been with the family for twenty years!”
“People can be bought, Mateo, or they can be blackmailed,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. “Where is Mrs. Gable right now?”
“She was unconscious in the pantry after the scuffle,” Mateo said, horror dawning on his face. “We left her resting in the staff medical bay while we secured the perimeter.”
Dante didn't wait to finish the sentence. He bolted out of the holding room, his boots slamming against the concrete steps as he raced back toward the upper levels. Mateo and I sprinted right behind him, our footsteps echoing through the labyrinth of the underground corridors.
When we burst into the staff medical bay on the ground floor, the room was empty.
The cot was neatly made, but the side window leading out to the exterior courtyard was pushed open, letting the cold autumn wind sweep across the empty floor. On the bedside table sat a small, silver housekeeper’s pocket watch—the exact watch Mrs. Gable always wore—resting beside a printed schedule of the estate’s evening security patrols.
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And right on top of the schedule was a handwritten note addressed to Dante.
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