Chapter 3 - The Broken Seal
By noon, the atmosphere in the mansion had reached a boiling point. Technicians had cleared out of the main hall, but four armed guards were posted at every exterior exit. The house was in lockdown. No one was allowed to enter or leave without Dante’s personal clearance.
Clare was in the formal dining room, pretending to inspect the silver polished pieces, when she overheard Marco speaking to two senior soldiers near the entry doors.
“The boss is losing his mind,” Marco was saying, his voice laced with frustrated concern. “He’s trusting the domestic staff over his own men. Sweeping the house is one thing, but locking us in here like rats while Genovese moves on the docks is suicide.”
“What do we do, Marco?” one of the soldiers asked.
“We hold the line,” Marco growled. “And we find out who gave Vanguard those fake access passes.”
Clare kept her head down, polishing a silver gravy boat until her knuckles turned white. Marco’s act was seamless. If she hadn't seen the altered digital ledger with her own eyes, she would have believed his frustration was genuine. He looked like a loyal commander furious about a breach in his defenses.
A sharp whistle echoed down the grand corridor.
Nero came trotting down the polished marble floor, his massive head high, his nose twitching. He bypassed Marco and the guards entirely, heading straight for Clare. He sat down heavily at her side, resting his massive chin on her knee.
Dante appeared at the end of the hall, wearing a long charcoal overcoat.
“Marco,” Dante called out. “With me. We’re going to the docks.”
Marco blinked, caught off guard. “Now? Dante, the estate isn't clear yet. The tech team hasn't swept the garage vehicles.”
“The armored Suburbans are clean,” Dante replied calmly. “Genovese just called a emergency meeting at the south warehouse. He claims he knows who placed the bugs.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “He called you directly?”
“Ten minutes ago,” Dante said, walking toward the grand main doors. “He says he has the man who bought the transmitters. I want you there when I talk to him.”
Marco hesitated for a bare second, his hand resting near his coat jacket where his sidearm was holstered. “Of course. Let me get the security detail.”
“No detail,” Dante said, his voice ringing across the cavernous room like iron on stone. “Just you, me, and Paulie. We don't advertise our movement when the house has ears.”
Dante turned his eyes to Clare as he reached the heavy front door.
“Clare,” he said, his tone casual yet laced with an unwritten command. “Take Nero up to my study. Lock the inner doors. Stay there until I get back.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti,” she answered quietly.
As the heavy oak doors shut behind Dante and Marco, the silence returned to the mansion, heavier and more terrifying than before. Clare didn't waste time. She grabbed Nero by his thick leather collar and led him quickly up the grand staircase.
Instead of locking herself in the study, she went straight to the corner window overlooking the front driveway. She watched as the black Suburban pulled away, its tires spraying gravel across the manicured lawn.
The house was practically empty now, save for three lower-level guards stationed at the perimeter gates and the kitchen staff locked in their quarters.
Nero let out a soft whine, standing by the study door.
Clare turned to look at him. His ears were flat against his head. He wasn't looking at the door leading to the hallway. He was looking at the air vent near the ceiling.
A faint click echoed from inside the brass vent grating.
May you like
Clare’s blood ran cold.
The technicians had cleared eleven bugs by sunrise. But they had missed something. Or rather, someone had turned a switch back on the moment Dante left the building.
