Chapter 9 - The Strobe-Lit Bloodbath in the Subterranean Crypts
The reaction was instantaneous.
Vance didn't hesitate, didn't talk, and didn't boast. With the reflex of a professional killer, he threw Marco Ricci directly in front of him as a human shield while his left hand slammed down on the emergency arming sequence of the detonator console.
"Kill them!" Vance roared, diving backward off the catwalk into the secondary maintenance tunnel.
Gunfire erupted inside the stone vault with a deafening roar. The muzzle flashes turned the ancient crypt into a strobe-lit slaughterhouse. Concrete exploded off the structural pillars in jagged clouds of blinding dust.
Tony’s breach team opened up with their suppressed weapons, dropping three of Vance’s mercenaries before they could raise their rifles. The remaining four contractors dove behind the steel refrigeration units, returning fire with armor-piercing rounds that chewed through the brickwork around our heads.
Marco Ricci shrieked in terror as a ricocheting round caught him in the hip. He tumbled off the catwalk, crashing heavily onto a wooden pallet of wine bottles, screaming in agony as broken glass and vintage port soaked through his expensive suit.
"The timer!" Tony yelled over the din of gunfire. "Boss, the console is armed! Seven minutes!"
One of Vance’s heavy gunners swung an assault shotgun toward Tony’s position. Tony was reloading, his back pinned against a crumbling arch, completely exposed.
Bruno moved.
The Cane Corso didn't hesitate. He launched himself across the ten-foot gap, his jaws locking onto the gunner’s shoulder just as the man pulled the trigger. The blast went wild, blowing a crater into the ceiling limestone instead of Tony’s chest. The gunner slammed against the concrete floor, screaming as Bruno’s weight pinned him down, neutralizing the threat instantly.
But from the catwalk above, a wounded mercenary pulled a sidearm and fired two desperate shots directly down into the melee.
Crack. Crack.
I saw Bruno’s body jerk violently in mid-air.
A wet, sickening thud echoed through the chamber as a heavy-caliber bullet struck the dog in the side of his chest, just behind his scarred shoulder blade. Bruno let out a short, sharp gasp, his legs buckling beneath him, collapsing onto the bloody concrete beside the fallen gunner.
Something inside my soul snapped—a cold, terrifying rupture of thirty years of disciplined restraint.
I stepped out from behind my cover, ignoring the incoming fire, my .45 barking in a steady, rhythmic cadence of executioner's fire.
One. The shooter on the catwalk took a bullet through the eye and plummeted twenty feet to the floor.
Two. A mercenary attempting to flank Tony caught two rounds through the center of his chest.
Three. The last surviving contractor dropped his weapon, raising his hands, only for Tony to put a round through his forehead without breaking stride.
The vault went dead silent, save for the frantic electronic beeping of the bomb console: 04:12... 04:11... 04:10...
I didn't look at the timer. I dropped my empty weapon and fell to my knees on the freezing, bloody floor beside Bruno.
The dog was lying on his side, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps that blew pink, frothy bubbles of blood from his nostrils. The bullet had entered his lung. His golden eyes, usually so fierce and unyielding, were beginning to glaze over, fixed on my face with an expression of quiet, agonizing loyalty.
"No," I whispered, my hands pressing down desperately against the gaping entry wound in his chest, hot blood pouring through my fingers. "Not today, Brun. Not for these bastards. Stay with me!"
Tony ran to the bomb console, his hands flying across the wires, sweating profusely as the digital countdown ticked past three minutes. "Boss! The primary circuit is hardwired to a mercury switch! If I cut the wrong lead, the whole cathedral drops! I need the master override code from Vance!"
I looked toward the dark maintenance tunnel where Vance had fled.
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"Tony," I said, my voice completely devoid of human emotion, sounding like an iron gate slamming shut in an empty tomb. "Keep pressure on Bruno’s chest. If he stops breathing before I get back, don't bother disarming the bomb."
I picked up a fallen assault rifle from the floor, racked the heavy steel bolt, and walked into the dark tunnel after the man who had killed Elena Vasquez.
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