Chapter 17 - The King's Ransom
The seconds ticked away agonizingly slow,
each beat of my heart feeling like a hammer against my ribs,
as the blue dots representing Donatello's men swarmed toward the elevator banks on the thermal scanner.
"Silas,
I need those numbers now,"
Asher demanded,
his voice tight,
his hand resting heavily on the shoulder of our youngest brother,
trying to anchor him as Silas fought a desperate digital battle.
"I'm in!"
Silas shouted,
his fingers flying across the keys in a final,
furious burst of speed,
"The code is 8-4-9-2-7-6,
execute immediately!"
Eleanor’s gloved hands flew across the polished steel keypad mounted next to the massive vault door,
punching in the numbers with flawless precision,
the machine beeping a solid,
reassuring green.
She grasped the heavy metal wheel,
turning it with a sharp,
forceful twist,
and the enormous locking mechanisms clanked loudly,
the thick door swinging open on perfectly oiled hinges.
"I am inside,"
Eleanor confirmed,
stepping into the cavernous,
climate-controlled room,
her eyes sweeping over the unbelievable wealth hoarded by the Romano family.
Stacks of hundred-dollar bills were piled high on metal shelves,
alongside velvet-lined trays of uncut diamonds,
gold bullion,
and countless ledgers bound in black leather,
detailing decades of corruption,
bribery,
and blood money.
"Don't bother with the cash,"
Julian's voice suddenly cut into the comms,
his deep,
commanding tone echoing in the surveillance van,
having been monitoring the operation from the estate.
"Take the black ledger on the center pedestal,
it contains the names of every politician,
judge,
and police commissioner on Donatello's payroll."
"Consider it done,"
Eleanor replied smoothly,
walking past millions of dollars without a second glance,
reaching the center pedestal and snatching the thick,
heavy ledger.
She shoved the book into a sleek,
waterproof satchel she had strapped across her chest beneath the crimson gown,
securing the intel that would bring the Romano empire crashing down in flames.
"They are in the elevator,"
I yelled,
my eyes glued to the thermal monitor,
watching the cluster of heavily armed men ascending rapidly toward the penthouse.
"You have less than thirty seconds before they breach the hallway,
Phantom,
you need to get out of there!"
"Understood,"
Eleanor said calmly,
stepping out of the vault,
but instead of running toward the emergency stairwell,
she paused,
turning back to look at the millions of dollars stacked inside the steel room.
She reached into a small pouch attached to her thigh holster,
pulling out three small,
disc-shaped devices blinking with a sinister red light.
"What are you doing?"
Asher demanded,
his voice rising in panic,
"Stick to the plan,
Eleanor,
evacuate the building!"
She didn't answer,
she simply tossed the incendiary charges into the vault,
landing them perfectly amidst the stacks of cash and the velvet trays of diamonds,
and slammed the heavy steel door shut,
spinning the locking wheel to seal the room.
"I'm leaving a message,"
she whispered coldly,
her voice carrying a dark,
vengeful edge that chilled me to the bone,
"No one attacks my family and walks away with their wealth intact."
The elevator chimes rang out in the distance,
a high,
clear note that echoed down the luxurious hallway,
signaling the arrival of Donatello's heavily armed kill squad.
Eleanor did not run,
she turned smoothly,
her suppressed pistol raised,
her crimson dress swirling around her legs,
and marched straight toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city skyline.
"They are entering the hallway,"
Silas warned rapidly,
the sound of heavy combat boots hitting the floor echoing through the comms.
"Detonating charges in three,
two,
one,"
Eleanor stated calmly,
pressing a small button on her wrist communicator.
A muffled,
deep explosion shook the entire building,
the sound of millions of dollars burning instantly in a contained inferno,
the shockwave shattering the glass cases in the office and throwing the approaching guards off balance.
In the ensuing chaos,
as smoke began to pour from the edges of the vault door and the fire alarms shrieked violently,
Eleanor sprinted toward the window,
not slowing down,
her eyes locked on the glass.
She raised her gun,
firing two quick shots into the thick pane,
shattering the integrity of the window,
and threw her body forward,
crashing through the remaining shards of glass,
plunging into the dark,
May you like
freezing night air,
forty stories above the unforgiving pavement.
