Chapter 10 - The Vault Breach and the Vow in the Dark
The harsh blue hiss of the thermal-lance torch ignited against the outer
titanium seal of the safe room door.
Through the six-inch reinforced steel, the metallic screech of metal
superheating to three thousand degrees reverberated through the small vault like
a tortured scream.
On the surveillance monitor, Julian Cross was sweating profusely, his expensive
designer jacket discarded on the wine cellar floor, his eyes wide and bloodshot
with frantic, unhinged desperation.
"You ruined my life, Natalie!" Julian screamed through the intercom system. "My
father threw me out of the company! The banks froze my personal accounts! Lady
Eleanor blacklisted my name across all of Europe! All because you couldn't just
stay in your place and let me handle you!"
I backed away from the glowing red seam spreading across the upper hinge of the
door.
"You ruined yourself, Julian!" I yelled back at the speaker. "You stole from
your own father! You used me as a financial shield! You were never a man—you
were just a coward in an expensive suit!"
"We'll see how brave your billionaire looks when I drag you out of this tomb!"
Julian snarled, shoving the thermal lance deeper into the locking mechanism.
The secondary locking pins inside the door began to groan and warp under the
extreme heat.
I looked around the safe room.
The room was equipped for emergency survival: medical supplies, a water
filtration unit, a satellite communications console... and an emergency weapons
locker.
I stepped to the weapons locker on the far wall. I punched in the access code
Enzo had used for the elevator: 8 - 1 - 9 - 4.
Click.
The locker opened.
Inside rested a sleek, high-voltage tactical stun baton and a 12-gauge
semi-automatic shotgun with an extended magazine tube.
I had never fired a shotgun in my life. But I remembered what Enzo had said on
the rainy docks of Terminal 9: I measure your worth by what I am willing to burn
down to keep you safe.
I picked up the heavy shotgun, racked the charging handle with a loud,
mechanical CLACK-CLACK, and braced the stock against my hip, aiming directly at
the center seam of the vault door.
BOOM!
The top hinge gave way.
The heavy titanium door swung inward on its damaged lower track, squealing
against the concrete floor. Dense gray smoke and the smell of ozone flooded into
the room.
Julian kicked the door open, stepping through the smoke holding a heavy steel
pipe wrench.
"Come here, you—"
Julian froze.
Standing five feet away, dressed in a silk robe, holding a fully loaded 12-gauge
shotgun aimed directly between his eyes, was his former girlfriend.
Julian’s face drained of every drop of color. His hands began to tremble.
"Natalie... put the gun down," Julian stammered, his voice cracking into a
high-pitched squeak. "You wouldn't shoot me. You don't have it in you."
"Try me, Julian," I said, my voice ice-cold, my finger resting lightly against
the curved trigger. "Take one more step toward me and see what happens to that
pretty face."
Before Julian could move, a massive, bloodied hand reached through the smoke
behind him, grabbed Julian by the scruff of his neck, and hurled him violently
backward out of the vault.
Julian crashed into a towering oak wine rack, shattering fifty vintage bottles
of Cabernet Sauvignon in an explosion of red liquid and broken glass.
Standing in the doorway of the wine cellar, his shirt torn, blood trickling down
his temple, but his posture straight and towering like an ancient Roman warrior,
was Enzo.
Behind him stood Marco and four armed security guards, their assault rifles held
at the low ready. The house above was quiet. The siege had been crushed.
Enzo looked into the vault. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, confirming
that I was unhurt, before his gaze drifted down to the 12-gauge shotgun resting
in my hands.
A slow, devastating, breathless grin spread across his bruised, handsome face.
"Remind me never to make you angry, Mrs. Romano," Enzo murmured, his voice rich
with awe and deep affection.
I lowered the weapon, letting the heavy steel barrel rest against the floor, my
hands finally beginning to shake as the adrenaline drained from my body.
Enzo crossed the threshold in two strides, kicked the shotgun aside, and pulled
me violently into his arms, burying his face in my hair, his chest heaving
against mine.
"You're safe," he whispered fiercely, his arms crushing me against his body.
"You're safe, Natalie. It's over."
"You came back," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing
in the scent of rain, gunpowder, and his intoxicating cedar cologne.
"I will always come back for you," Enzo said.
He pulled back, framing my face with his hands—just as I had done to him on the
night we met in the ballroom—and looked into my eyes with an emotion so raw, so
powerful, that it stole the breath from my lungs.
May you like
"We have a wedding in twelve hours, little bird," he whispered. "Are you ready
to become my wife for real?"
"Yes," I smiled through tears of pure joy. "For real."
