Chapter 7 - The Trap Opens
The main auction floor hummed with tension as the auctioneer—a short, polished Italian man—took the stage. High-value contraband, stolen European artwork, and offshore shipping permits were being auctioned off for millions of dollars in untraceable cryptocurrency.
Matteo and Penny sat in a private glass-fronted booth on the second-floor balcony, guarded by Leo and four heavily armed soldiers. From here, they had a perfect view of the entire floor—and of Arthur Vance, who sat in a booth directly across the arena, whispering furiously into a dark satellite phone.
Penny took a small sip of crystal-clear water, her hand trembling slightly despite her best efforts to stay composed.
“He knows who I am,” she whispered, leaning toward Matteo. “Vance recognized me. I saw it in his eyes.”
“I know,” Matteo said, his eyes scanning the crowd below, tracking every movement with terrifying focus. “That was the goal. He’s panicked now. He knows you survived the night, he knows you’re with me, and he knows his window to eliminate you is closing fast.”
“So what does he do now?”
“He makes a mistake,” Matteo replied smoothly.
Suddenly, the heavy glass window of their private booth gave a sharp, metallic CLICK.
The ambient lights of the entire warehouse instantly cut out.
Pitch blackness swallowed the grand room.
Shrieks and startled gasps echoed up from the lower dance floor. Emergency crimson backup lights flickered on three seconds later, casting a bloody, terrifying dark red glow across the space.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Heavy gunshot blasts echoed through the high-ceilinged warehouse. People began stampeding toward the exit doors, screaming in blind panic.
“Leo!” Matteo barked, standing up instantly, dragging Penny behind his solid frame in a single fluid motion.
“Power’s cut from the main grid, Boss!” Leo shouted over the rising din, his heavy weapon drawn and aimed at the booth door. “They jammed our local coms! We have breach teams moving up the service stairwell!”
The heavy reinforced wooden door of their private booth shattered inward under the force of a tactical kick.
Three men in dark tactical gear, carrying suppressed submachine guns, charged into the room.
Penny screamed as Matteo moved with horrifying, blinding speed. He didn't wait for his guards to act. He grabbed the heavy marble-topped cocktail table in front of them and flipped it violently on its side, slamming it like a battering ram into the chest of the lead gunman, crushing the man against the doorframe with a sickening crack of bone.
Leo opened fire, three heavy rounds striking the second attacker in the chest, dropping him instantly to the rug.
The third gunman raised his weapon, aiming directly past Matteo’s shoulder—aiming straight at Penny, who was pressed against the glass wall behind him.
“Penny, down!” Matteo roared.
Instead of dropping to the floor, Penny’s survival instincts took complete control. She grabbed a heavy brass ice bucket filled with melting ice and a bottle of champagne from the overturned tray beside her and hurled it with all her strength directly at the gunman’s head.
The heavy brass bucket struck the shooter squarely across the bridge of his nose. The man stumbled backward with a bloody yell, his weapon discharging wildly into the ceiling plaster.
That single second of distraction was all Matteo needed. He closed the distance in a flash, grabbed the gunman’s wrist, twisted it backward until the joint snapped with a terrifying POP, seized the man by the throat, and slammed his head full-force against the brick wall, dropping him cold.
Silence descended back upon the ruined booth, heavy and suffocating, save for the harsh sound of Matteo’s heavy breathing.
Penny stood frozen against the back glass, her hands bruised, her silk dress splattered with melting ice water and white drywall dust. She stared at the fallen gunmen, then raised her eyes to Matteo.
Matteo turned slowly. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped under his skin. He looked at Penny, seeing the heavy brass ice bucket lying beside the unconscious assassin.
A slow, dark, incredulous grin spread across his bloodied face.
“An ice bucket, Higgins?” he panted softly, stepping over the fallen bodies toward her. “Really?”
“I... I ran out of tequila glasses,” she wheezed, her chest heaving as she slumped against the glass.
Matteo reached out, his big hand framing the side of her soft face, his thumb gently wiping a smudge of dark dust off her cheek. His touch was warm, intense, and trembling with a sudden surge of raw adrenaline and raw emotion.
“You are incredible,” he whispered softly, his amber eyes searing into hers.
Before she could answer, Leo stepped over the bodies, kicking a stray rifle away from an unconscious hitman. “Boss! Vance is fleeing toward the docks! He’s got a speed boat waiting at Pier 4!”
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Matteo’s gentle expression instantly slammed shut, replaced once again by the cold mask of a king going to war. He lowered his hand from Penny’s cheek, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly.
“He doesn't get away tonight,” Matteo said flatly. “Come on.”
