Chapter 13 - Into the Deep
The black submarine sat in the thrashing surf like a leviathan, seawater pouring off its sleek carbon-composite hull. On its conning tower, a single amber spotlight snapped on, illuminating the narrow metal staircase deployed against the jagged rocks below their ledge.
""Can you climb down?"" Luca asked, his voice strained as he pressed a hand over his bleeding shoulder.
Elena looked down at the violently churning waves, then at the baby sleeping soundly against her chest, shielded from the downpour by his father's coat.
""I have to,"" she said, her voice firmer than it had ever been. She was no longer the terrified girl cowering in the hospital corridor. She was a mother who had clawed her way through gunfire and betrayal.
Luca led the descent, testing each slippery metal rung before guiding her down. With every foot they descended toward the thundering Pacific, the compound above—their former prison—glowed faintly in the distance, smoke rising into the rain-heavy sky.
Three deckhands in dark, unmarked drysuits waited on the submarine's narrow platform, catching Elena by the waist as she reached the bottom. One of them immediately guided her into the warm, illuminated belly of the vessel.
The hatch sealed above them with a profound, airtight thud.
The violent roar of the storm was instantly replaced by the low, rhythmic thrum of nuclear-electric turbines. The air smelled of ozone, recycled oxygen, and clean steel.
A medic in grey scrubs rushed forward, wrapping Elena and the baby in thermal foil blankets, quickly checking the infant's vitals.
""The boy is healthy,"" the medic reported, looking up at Luca as he descended the ladder. ""A little cold, but strong. His respiration is normal.""
Elena collapsed onto a padded metal bench in the narrow corridor, clutching the baby to her chest as tears finally cascaded down her cheeks—tears of exhaustion, grief, and survival.
Luca waved off the medic trying to dress his shoulder wound. He walked over and sat down beside Elena, his towering frame slouching for the first time. The ruthless mafia warlord looked merely human now—exhausted, broken, and weary.
""Where are you taking us?"" Elena asked softly, listening to the muffled groan of the hull as the vessel began to dive into the tranquil, silent depths of the ocean.
""Nowhere Hector’s remaining syndicate can reach,"" Luca murmured, his eyes half-closed. ""An isolated island territory off the coast of Chile. Julian bought it thirty years ago under a shell corporation. It’s self-sustaining. Secure.""
""And what happens to the Moretti empire?"" she asked.
Luca turned his head, his gaze settling on the infant's peaceful face.
""Let it burn,"" Luca said quietly. ""Let Mateo search the ashes for a crown that no longer exists.""
Just then, the submarine's communications console beeped with an urgent red light. The captain stepped out of the control room, his face pale.
""Commander Moretti,"" the captain said stiffly. ""We just intercepted a global syndicate transmission. Mateo Vance didn't flee to South America.""
Elena's heart seized in her chest.
""Where is he?"" Luca demanded, his voice instantly sharpening.
""He went directly to Rome,"" the captain replied, handing over a decrypted tablet. ""He just declared himself the Supreme Regent of the Council, and he put a three-hundred-million-dollar bounty on your head. But that’s not all.""
The captain hesitated, casting a nervous glance toward Elena.
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""Speak,"" Luca commanded.
""He announced that the baby isn't Julian’s heir at all,"" the captain whispered. ""He released the genetic autopsy records from eight months ago. The boy is yours, Luca.""
