Chapter 6 - The Shattered Vault
Before Julian could process the movement, Moreva reached up with explosive speed and seized the exposed high-pressure steam valve directly above the doorframe. With a roar of exertion, he wrenched the rusted wheel down, snapping the oxidized brass fitting clean off its mount.
A deafening hiss tore through the corridor as scalding, pressurized steam blasted directly into Julian’s face.
Julian shrieked, firing blindly into the white mist. Bullets ricocheted wildly off the stone walls and the iron vault door, sparks illuminating the corridor like violent strobe lights.
"Clara, down!" Moreva roared, dropping his father into the relative safety of an arched alcove and lunging forward into the cloud of vapor.
Clara threw herself over Vittorio, curling her body into a protective crescent around the trembling patriarch. A ricochet chipped stone mere inches from her ear, peppering her hair with dust.
Through the shrieking steam, she heard the brutal, sickening crunch of bone against bone. Julian's cries transformed into choked, wet gasps. There was a dull thud, the metallic clatter of a dropped weapon, and the sound of bodies slamming against the concrete.
Clara scrambled forward, her fingers brushing against the cold steel of Julian's discarded firearm. She gripped the heavy weapon with both hands, struggling to hold it steady as the steam began to disperse into the damp chill of the cellar.
When the air cleared, Moreva was kneeling over his younger brother, his hands clamped around Julian’s throat. Julian’s face was badly scalded, his nose shattered, his clouded eye wide with primal terror.
"You forfeited your bloodline the day you poisoned our father," Moreva whispered, his knuckles white with lethal pressure.
"Brother... please..." Julian managed to choke out, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips. "The money... we can split it... Mercer has the codes..."
"There is no money," Moreva said coldly. "I liquidated the offshore trusts three weeks ago in Palermo. What’s inside that vault isn't gold, Julian. It's the family's debt ledgers."
Julian’s eyes stretched wide in shock.
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Before Moreva could finish the choke, a sharp metallic click echoed from the staircase behind them. Dr. Mercer stepped out of the shadow of the stairs, holding a heavy revolver aimed directly at the back of Moreva's skull.
"Back away from him, Don Moreva," Mercer said calmly. "Or the old man gets a bullet through the brain first."
