Chapter 6 - Fire in the Cellar
“Roman, no!” Elena cried out, reaching for his arm. “We go together!”
Roman caught her hand, bringing it to his lips for a brief, burning kiss. “If I don't delay them here, their mercenaries will catch us in the narrow alley. They have night vision and automatic rifles. We won't survive the street.”
“Then I stay with you,” she demanded, her jaw set with that same terrifying resolve he had seen upstairs.
“No,” Roman said firmly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute authority. “Your job was saving my life upstairs. My job is making sure you live to see tomorrow. Go with Matteo.”
“Boss—” Matteo began.
“Get her to the safehouse in Queens, Matteo!” Roman roared. “If anything happens to her, there isn't a corner of this earth where you can hide from me!”
Matteo swallowed hard, recognizing the absolute finality in his leader's voice. He grabbed Elena’s elbow firmly. “Mrs. Duca, please. We have to move.”
Elena looked at Roman, tears streaming freely down her face, but she saw the fierce love and determination in his eyes. She nodded slowly. “Don't you dare die in this basement, Roman Duca.”
“I have a marriage to fix,” Roman replied softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Matteo pulled her toward the dark rear tunnel just as the thermal torch completed a three-foot circle in the heavy steel entrance door.
With an explosive kick, the cut section of steel slammed inward, crashing onto the stone floor.
Thick smoke poured into the cellar as three mercenaries tossed flashbang grenades into the darkness.
BANG! BANG!
Blinding light and disorienting sound shockwaves bounced off the brick walls.
Roman, positioned safely behind a massive four-hundred-liter oak wine barrel, waited three agonizing seconds for the light to fade.
The three mercenaries stepped through the breached door, their assault rifles raised, scanning the gloom.
Roman didn't use his gun.
He picked up a heavy glass bottle filled with ninety-percent-proof spirits, lit the rag soaked in engine oil stuffed into its neck, and hurled it straight at the central support beam above the entrance.
The bottle shattered spectacularly.
A wall of roaring, orange fire erupted instantly, engulfing the doorway and setting two of the mercenaries ablaze. They screamed, falling backward through the breach into the hallway outside.
“Suppressing fire!” a voice bellowed from the hallway.
Bullets perforated the wooden barrels around Roman, spraying aged red wine across the floor like blood. The sweet, pungent smell of alcohol filled the room, catching fire instantly as the flames spread across the floorboards.
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Roman fired four precise shots through the wall of flame, dropping the third mercenary, then turned and sprinted down the dark, narrow tunnel after his wife.
Behind him, the entire front half of the historical cellar collapsed into a raging inferno of brick, fire, and shattering oak.
