Chapter 10 - The Iron Tracks
The deafening roar of collapsing stone sealed the tunnel, cutting off Viktor’s gunfire with brutal finality. Dominic stood frozen in the narrow shaft for half a second, the dust choking his lungs, his heart hammering with rare, cold grief. Viktor had been his shadow for twelve years. But grief was a luxury for men who survived the night; out here, hesitating meant joining the dead.
Dominic turned and caught up to Elena. She was leaning against the damp walls of the auxiliary conduit, clutching her wound, her face ashen under the yellow emergency light filtering from the subway grate above.
"Your man..." she whispered, seeing Dominic alone.
"We keep moving," Dominic said, his tone devoid of warmth, though his grip on her arm was steady and protective.
He guided her up the rusted iron rungs of an access ladder, kicking open the street-level iron grate. They emerged into the abandoned lower maintenance platform of the 4th Avenue subway line. The air here was colder, smelling of ozone, stale trash, and stagnant water. Distant, screeching metal indicated that early morning maintenance trains were already active several levels above.
Dominic checked his watch. 04:15 AM.
Meridian Private Bank was four blocks north. Sterling’s headquarters—a fortified glass tower overlooking the financial plaza—was directly adjacent to it. Sterling would be sitting in his penthouse office, waiting for news of Elena's body being recovered from Dominic's ruins.
"The key opens a private locker in the subterranean vault of the bank," Elena said, leaning heavily against a tiled pillar. "Dean had a contact inside who left the maintenance door unlocked every night. That’s how Dean was supposed to deposit his shipments."
"Then we don't go through the front doors," Dominic replied, examining the track layout. He knew this city's underground better than the men who built it. "The bank shares an emergency drainage line with this subway tunnel. We walk the tracks."
They stepped down onto the wooden ties between the rails, walking quietly through the gloom. Elena was slowing down, her footsteps dragging in the gravel. Blood had seeped through the gauze, blooming across her coat. Dominic slung his arm around her waist, taking most of her weight onto his shoulder.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked faintly, her breath catching with every step. "You could have dropped me at a hospital. You could have traded the key for your own safety."
Dominic looked straight ahead into the darkness of the tunnel. "Sterling burned my ships. He killed my men. And he used you as a disposable weapon. In my world, Elena, debts are settled in blood, not negotiations."
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Up ahead, a red maintenance lantern illuminated a heavy iron door with the Meridian Private Bank crest bolted to the steel frame. But just beneath the handle, a fresh, wet smear of grease caught Dominic's eye.
The door was already unlocked.
