Chapter 40 - The Fall of the Terrace
Chaos swallowed the courtyard of Villa La Fenice.
The roar of high-pressure water mixed with the crack of blind gunfire and the screams of men losing their footing on wet, slick limestone. Mercenaries stumbled, their flashlights whipping wildly through the dense spray, casting fractured arcs of white light across the mist.
Claire broke into a full sprint across the terrace. “Matteo!”
A dark silhouette dragged itself out from beneath the stone balustrade. Matteo was on his knees, his face pale, his breath rattling in his chest, but his eyes were blazing. “Claire! Get back! Julian has a sidearm!”
Before Claire could reach him, a sharp muzzle flash flared from behind the overturned fountain.
A heavy slug cracked into the stone pillar inches from Claire’s head, showering her face with pulverized marble. She stumbled, rolling behind the thick trunk of an ancient olive tree as a second bullet thudded deep into the wood.
“You ruined my life!” Julian’s voice shrieked through the roar of water. He stepped into the fringe of the flashlight beams, soaking wet, his tailored suit ruined, holding a sleek black automatic pistol with two shaking hands. “You took the family trust! You put Dad in an early grave! You made me a criminal!”
“You made yourself a criminal the day you stole twenty million from your own clients, Julian!” Claire yelled from behind the tree, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Dad didn't build an empire! He built a pyramid of lies, and you were too lazy to do anything but sit on the top!”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Julian fired two more wild rounds into the tree, the bark splintering around Claire’s shoulders.
Across the terrace, Matteo had reached the edge of the fountain. Straining against the heavy plastic zip-ties, he drove his bound wrists against the jagged edge of a shattered terracotta shard. The sharp clay sliced through the plastic—and deeply into his own wrists—but with a final, violent yank, his hands snapped free, slick with his own blood.
Julian racked the slide of his pistol, taking two heavy, staggering steps toward Claire’s cover. “Come out, Claire. Come out, or I’ll empty this magazine into the dark until I hear you stop breathing.”
He raised the weapon.
From behind him, Matteo moved like a shadow rising from the sea.
Ignoring the shattered ribs and the torn flesh of his arms, Matteo lunged forward, locking both arms around Julian’s neck in a brutal sleeper hold.
Julian choked out a strangled gasp, firing the pistol wildly into the night sky as the two men crashed to the gravel. Julian bucked like an animal, clawing at Matteo’s eyes, slamming his elbows back into Matteo’s already battered ribs. Matteo groaned in agony, blood pouring from his opened wounds, but he didn't let go. His jaw was set like iron.
“Claire... the gate...” Matteo choked out, his vision swimming. “The others... are flanking around...”
Claire didn't hesitate. She stepped out from the shelter of the tree, grabbed the heavy iron lever from the grass, and swung it with everything she had, driving it squarely across the side of Julian’s shoulder blade.
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Julian shrieked in pain, his grip on the gun breaking. The pistol went skittering across the slick terrace tiles, tumbling over the stone balustrade and falling three hundred feet into the churning black waves of the Mediterranean below.
***
