Chapter 11 - Defiance in the Dark: Surviving the Clutches of Victor Costa
I woke up tied to a heavy steel chair in the center of an abandoned, damp industrial warehouse near the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
The cold salt air blew through broken high-bay windows. My head pounded with a vicious migraine from the chloroform, and my arms were bound tightly behind my back with heavy zip-ties that bit into my wrists.
Standing ten feet in front of me, illuminated by a single dangling yellow lightbulb, was Victor Costa.
He was flanked by eight heavily armed mercenaries in tactical gear. Costa held a glass of scotch, a triumphant, sadistic grin stretching across his wrinkled face.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mrs. Rossi," Costa sneered, taking a slow sip. "Or should I say... Maya Vance?"
I lifted my head, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the concrete floor. "You're a dead man, Costa. Dominic will tear this building down with his bare hands."
Costa laughed, a grating, dry sound that echoed off the corrugated metal walls. "Dominic Rossi is currently digging his way out of the burning rubble of his estate. By the time he tracks the burner phones we used, you will have already given me what I want."
Costa walked over, grabbing my jaw with his cold, bony fingers, squeezing until my teeth clicked.
"Your father hid twenty billion dollars of syndicate offshore accounts, Maya. The encryption algorithm requires a biometric passkey tied to his direct lineage. All you have to do is place your thumb on this scanner, and I might let you live long enough to watch your husband die."
One of his men brought forward a heavy, ruggedized military tablet with an integrated biometric scanner.
I looked at the scanner, then lifted my eyes to Costa’s face, my expression deadpan and utterly devoid of fear.
"My husband already burned the Swiss bank codes, Costa," I said with a cold, mocking smile. "There is no money. There is no ledger. You spent thirty years hunting a ghost, and all you're going to get for it is a bullet between your eyes."
Costa’s smile vanished, replaced by a purple, vein-popping rage.
He raised his hand and backhanded me violently across the face. The force of the blow snapped my head back, splitting my lip and sending a sharp burst of pain through my cheekbone.
"You arrogant little bitch!" Costa snarled, wiping his hand. "You think you're untouchable because you wear that Rossi ring? You are nothing! Just a broke waitress who got lucky in a ballroom!"
"I took seven bullets for a Rossi and survived," I spat back, tasting iron, glaring at him with eyes full of pure venom. "You couldn't even kill an old woman from five feet away. You're pathetic, Victor. And Dominic is going to slaughter you."
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Costa pulled a customized silver revolver from his waistband, cocking the hammer with a sharp metallic click, and pressed the freezing barrel directly against my forehead.
"Then let's see if you can survive eight," Costa hissed.
