THE SEVENTH KEY HID A DARKER TRUTH

The explosion shattered the morning quiet.

My mother’s sedan erupted in a fireball of glass and twisting metal. The shockwave rattled the windows of the estate, sending a plume of thick black smoke into the clear sky.

Luca threw his arm over me, shielding my face as the glass from our open window cracked under the pressure.

I peered over the sill, my heart pounding.

Marco wasn’t trying to kill us with the car bomb. He was sending a message.

Through the smoke, I saw Marco climb into a waiting black SUV. The tires screeched against the wet pavement as it tore through the front gates.

“He’s getting away,” I gasped.

Luca didn’t yell. The cold, calculated mafia boss returned, his eyes dead and focused.

“Let him run,” Luca said, turning away from the window. “He’s running straight back to Hayes. And he’s going to lead us right to their front door.”

We hurried downstairs. Isabella and my mother were safe in the sitting room, terrified by the blast.

“We’re fine,” I assured them, hugging my mother tightly.

Luca gathered his remaining loyal security men. Ten heavily armed guards stood in the foyer.

“Hayes broke a fifteen-year truce today,” Luca addressed his men, his voice echoing off the marble. “He paid for my father’s murder, and he planted a traitor in my house. Tonight, the Irish syndicate ends.”

He looked at me.

“Emma, stay here. The estate is a fortress.”

“No,” I said firmly.

I stepped forward. “Marco knows everything about this house. He knows our routines. If you go to war, he’ll send men here to finish the job. I’m going with you.”

Luca stared at me. He opened his mouth to argue, but he saw the sapphire ring on my finger.

I was his partner now. In everything.

“Get in the car,” Luca said.

Within minutes, a convoy of three armored SUVs rolled out of the estate, heading for the South Side.

The Hayes syndicate operated out of a massive, heavily guarded meatpacking plant near the river.

It was a fortress of brick, steel, and barbed wire.

We parked two blocks away in an abandoned alley.

Luca laid out the blueprints on the hood of the SUV.

“Front doors are suicide,” Luca pointed. “They’ll have machine guns mounted inside the loading bays.”

I studied the blueprint.

“What about the exhaust vents?” I asked, tracing a line on the paper. “My uncle used to do HVAC repair for these old plants. The exhaust vents for the freezer units are wide enough for a person. They drop straight into the catwalks above the main floor.”

Luca looked at me, impressed.

“Can you guide us to them?”

“Yes.”

We moved silently through the shadows. The stench of raw meat and chemicals hung heavy in the air.

We climbed the rusted fire escape at the back of the building.

I found the massive metal grate covering the exhaust vent. Luca’s men quietly cut the bolts.

We crawled into the dark, freezing metal duct.

We shimmied forward until we reached a heavy iron grate looking down into the main factory floor.

I peered through the slats.

Thirty armed men stood around the meat processing tables.

At the center stood Donovan Hayes. A large, brutal man with a thick red beard.

And standing right next to him was Marco.

“Moretti is weak,” Marco was telling Hayes, his voice echoing up to us. “He’s distracted by his new fiancée. We hit the estate tonight, wipe out the women, and Luca will break.”

Hayes laughed, a deep, cruel sound.

“Good work, Marco. You finally earned your seat at the table.”

Above them, Luca quietly unlatched the heavy grate.

He didn’t drop a grenade. He didn’t order his men to fire blindly.

He wanted them to know who was ending them.

Luca kicked the grate completely open. It crashed onto the concrete floor below, echoing like a gunshot.

Everyone looked up.

“Hello, Donovan,” Luca said, his voice cold as ice.

Before anyone could raise a weapon, Luca dropped through the opening, landing smoothly on the metal catwalk.

His men immediately opened fire from the vents above.

Chaos erupted.

Bullets tore through the air, sparking against the hanging meat hooks and stainless steel tables.

I stayed in the vent, gripping my revolver, watching the man I loved fight a war.

Luca moved with terrifying precision, dropping men with single, calculated shots as he advanced along the catwalk toward the stairs.

Hayes screamed orders, ducking behind a heavy steel processing machine.

Marco panicked. He saw Luca coming for him.

Marco didn’t fight. He bolted toward the back office.

“He’s running!” I yelled to Luca over the gunfire.

Luca vaulted over the railing, dropping ten feet to the floor, and sprinted after his father’s killer.

I couldn’t stay in the vent.

I climbed out, hurrying down the catwalk stairs to follow them.

I rounded the corner of the back office just in time to see Marco kick a heavy steel door shut, locking himself and Luca inside a massive, walk-in freezer.

I ran to the door. I pulled the heavy handle.

Locked from the inside.

I peered through the thick, frost-covered glass window.

Inside the freezing, fog-filled room, Luca and Marco were locked in a brutal, hand-to-hand fight.

Luca had dropped his gun.

Marco had pulled a long, jagged hunting knife.