Chapter 44 - The Broken Sanctuary
"Hold on!" Vincent roared.
He punched the accelerator, the heavy utility van lurching forward down the winding mountain descent. The road was a treacherous ribbon of wet asphalt bordered by sheer rock faces on one side and a five-hundred-foot drop into the ravine on the other.
Behind us, the two pursuit vehicles—heavy armored SUVs with matte-black grilles—closed the distance with lethal speed. The front SUV tapped our rear bumper, sending the van fish-tailing toward the guardrail. Sparks showered through the rain as steel scraped steel.
Maya screamed, burying her face into my chest. I threw my body over her, locking my arms around her head to shield her from the shattering rear glass as a burst of suppressed automatic fire punched through the back doors.
"Elena! Stay down!" Vincent shouted, pulling a submachine gun from under his seat with one hand while maneuvering the drifting van with the other.
He didn't fire at the pursuers. Instead, he slammed on the emergency brake, spinning the van one hundred and eighty degrees in the middle of a blind hairpin curve. The sudden maneuver caught the lead SUV off guard; its driver swerved violently to avoid a head-on collision, lost traction on the wet leaves, and vaulted through the flimsy metal guardrail, vanishing into the abyss with a sickening crash of tumbling metal.
The second SUV skidded to a halt fifty yards away. Four men in tactical gear poured out, weapons raised.
"Out! Now!" Vincent kicked open the driver's door, grabbed a tactical bag, and pulled me and Maya into the dense alpine forest flanking the road just as bullets shredded the front windshield of the van.
We scrambled through the wet ferns and sharp rocks, the cold mountain rain soaking through our clothes. Maya was coughing violently now, gasping for air between sobs.
"Vincent, she can't run!" I cried, slipping on the mud and catching myself on a boulder. "Her oxygen is dropping!"
"Half a mile," Vincent breathed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he scooped Maya into his left arm while keeping his weapon leveled in his right. "Laurent’s safe house is built into the old hunting lodge past the ridge. Move, Elena!"
We pushed through the brush, driven by pure adrenaline, until the silhouette of a stone lodge appeared through the pine trees. No lights were on.
Vincent kicked the rear service door open, deactivated a hidden keypad inside the frame, and pushed us into a dark, warm kitchen that smelled faintly of antiseptic and dried lavender.
"Laurent!" Vincent called out in a low bark.
An older man with silver hair, wearing surgical scrubs and thick-rimmed glasses, stepped out from an inner corridor holding a double-barreled shotgun. The moment he recognized Vincent, he lowered the weapon, his eyes widening in shock.
"Vincent? Mon Dieu... the radio. They said you were killed in Genoa."
"I need pediatric oxygen, sterile saline, and an injection of hydrocortisone right now," Vincent ordered, laying Maya gently on the stainless-steel examination table in the adjoining room.
Laurent didn't hesitate. He rushed to the medicine cabinets, drawing up vials and connecting an oxygen tube to a green tank. Within minutes, the transparent mask was over Maya’s face, delivering the life-saving mist. Her erratic breathing slowly stabilized, her small eyelids fluttering shut as exhaustion claimed her.
I collapsed into a wooden chair beside the table, burying my face in my hands, weeping from the sheer terror of the last two hours.
"She’s stable," Laurent said softly, checking her pulse. "For now. But Vincent... you cannot stay here."
"Just until dawn, Laurent. Then I’ll arrange a boat."
"You don't understand," Laurent said, turning his laptop toward Vincent. "Look at the secure wire."
On the screen was an official mandate stamped with the seal of the Sicilian Commission.
*TARGET: VINCENT MORETTI & ELENA VANCE. DEAD ON SIGHT. BOUNTY: 50 MILLION EUROS.*
Beneath it was a second decree, signed by Don Antonio himself:
May you like
*TARGET: MAYA MORETTI. TO BE DELIVERED ALIVE TO PALERMO. ANY SHELTERING PARTY WILL BE EXTERMINATED TO THE THIRD GENERATION.*
"He’s turned the entire underworld against you," Laurent whispered. "Every mercenary, every corrupt customs officer from Lisbon to Athens is looking for this girl."
