Chapter 27: News
The emergency stairwell felt cold and damp, a stark contrast to the heat of the fire that had begun to devour the top floor of the penthouse. The sound of police and fire truck sirens began to howl from the distance, approaching like a pack of wolves smelling blood.
Xavier held the heavy iron door on the ground floor, letting Agatha pass through first. The woman's breathing sounded heavy. Her face was deathly pale, but her eyes remained alert, sweeping the dim basement parking area.
"The car is in Zone B, Xav!" Frans's voice echoed from Xavier's earpiece.
"We are heading there," ordered Xavier.
Xavier did not let Agatha walk alone. He wrapped his arm tightly around his wife's waist, supporting most of Agatha's weight so the stitches on her back would not tear open further.
"I can walk on my own, Xav," protested Agatha weakly.
"Shut up and save your energy. You just shot down a helicopter, your quota for showing off your strength is used up for tonight," replied Xavier without loosening his grip.
They reached Zone B. There, a black Maybach SUV that had been modified with armor plating was purring softly. Frans stood beside the open passenger door, holding a short-barreled assault rifle, his eyes warily watching every shadow in the corner.
"Get in!" shouted Frans as soon as he saw them.
Xavier pushed Agatha into the back seat, then he followed her inside and slammed the door.
"Drive, Frans! Ram anything that blocks the exit!" ordered Xavier.
"Hold on!"
Frans stepped on the gas pedal deeply. The car tires screamed on the concrete floor. The large car shot out of the basement, smashing through the automatic gate until it broke, and glided onto the chaotic streets of Paris.
The view outside the window was terrifying.
Across the street, the wreckage of the helicopter Agatha shot down was still burning fiercely. Red fire blazed brightly into the night sky, illuminating the faces of the panicked crowd. Police began to blockade the road, but Frans skillfully slammed the steering wheel into a rat path, avoiding the authority's barricade.
Agatha stared wildly at the fire from behind the dark car window.
"That is a message for anyone who tries to challenge me," muttered Agatha coldly. "That iron wreckage is my letter of challenge."
Xavier looked at his wife, then shifted his gaze to the fire that was getting smaller behind them.
"The message has been received, Agatha. And now, we must prepare to face the retaliation."
Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away, the message had indeed arrived.
Secret Base of Luigi Volskey, Italian Border.
The metallic scent of blood and drying seawater still clung strongly to Petrov's body. He was tied to an iron chair, his two crushed legs only wrapped in makeshift cloths that were now wet with fresh blood. His face was pale, enduring excruciating pain because the knees shot by Xavier had not received any medical treatment.
"Do you know why I ordered my men to drag you from the port, Petrov?" asked Luigi Volskey. The middle-aged man stood with his back to Petrov, pouring red wine into a crystal glass.
"Be-because Sir... wanted to save me?" answered Petrov stuttering with his hoarse voice, his lips cracked holding back the dehydration that struck him.
Luigi turned around, sipping his wine elegantly, then suddenly threw the glass right at the wall beside Petrov's head.
CRASH!
"Wrong!" snapped Luigi. "To me, you were already dead the moment you failed my primary order. The order was simple, Petrov. Kill Xavier. Kill the girl. Eliminate anything that could hinder me. I wanted them to be ashes, not living witnesses!"
Luigi threw his tablet onto Petrov's lap. The screen displayed a live news broadcast from Paris amateur footage of the burning helicopter wreckage in the middle of the road, exactly the same one Agatha and Xavier had just left.
"But you failed! You let them live!" Luigi approached, grabbing Petrov's jaw roughly. "And because of your incompetence, I was forced to deploy the Red Wolf Unit to clean up your mess. Look at the result? Paris is in an uproar. All eyes are on that place now."
Petrov trembled. The pain in his crushed legs intensified. "Forgive me, Sir... That girl... she moves like a ghost..."
Luigi released his grip, then smiled slyly. "Prison is too easy for a failed dog like you. Xavier gave you a gift by destroying your legs hoping you would die slowly. So, I will send you back to him as a return gift."
"What do you mean, Sir?"
"You will be the bait, Petrov. I will place you in the open. Since the silent assassination plan failed, we will lure them out. Agatha will surely come to hunt you for answers. And when she gets close..." Luigi leaned his body, whispering like a snake, "We will make sure she explodes with you."
Main Residence of the Volskey Family, Milan.
News of the chaos in Paris spread faster than fire. In the other wing of the old castle, the atmosphere felt much more majestic yet oppressive. The private study of Don Cardios Volskey was filled with the scent of old books and expensive cigars.
Cardios, the Don who was now seventy years old, sat in his grand chair. Although his body was ravaged by age, his aura of dominance was still strong. In front of him, Marco, his right-hand man, stood with a pale face.
"Say it again, Marco," Cardios's voice was heavy and trembling.
"Our spies in Paris found this in the wreckage of Luigi's crashed helicopter, Don Cardios," Marco handed over a digitally enlarged printed photo. The photo was taken by a surveillance drone moments before the helicopter exploded.
Cardios's old hand accepted the photo. It was a zoom-in image of a woman on the burning penthouse balcony. Her face was covered in blood and fluttering hair, but the object tucked in her hand shone clearly in the reflected light.
A silver dagger with rose engravings wrapping around the handle.
Cardios's eyes narrowed sharply. His old heart raced, not from shock, but from cold satisfaction. "Finally..."
He rubbed the photo of the dagger with his rough thumb. His memory went back to the past. He knew Luigi was the one who sabotaged Leonard's car twenty-three years ago. He knew his second son was thirsty for power. However, Cardios chose to remain silent. He let Luigi feel like he had won, while his eyes kept watching every move of that ungrateful son.
All this time, Cardios survived for only one reason to find his granddaughter who vanished after the orphanage fire in Switzerland. He knew Aliora placed her in that orphanage to save the baby along with the Volskey heirloom dagger, but her tracks disappeared when Cardios's men were about to bring her back.
"As long as this dagger is not in Luigi's hands, he will never be the legitimate Don," Cardios murmured softly, a thin smile etched on his wrinkled face. "He thinks he can step over his brother's corpse to sit on this throne. But he forgot, the Volskey crown is with this child."
Cardios looked at Marco with fiery eyes. "Prepare the private jet. We go to Paris tonight."
"Are you sure, Don? Master Luigi must have surrounded the city with his troops," Marco warned anxiously.
"Exactly, Marco," Cardios stood up slowly from his wheelchair supporting his body with a cane. The pain in his old body seemed to vanish, replaced by burning rage. "Luigi is terrified. He is trying to eliminate anything that could stop him from sitting on the Volskey throne."
Cardios crumpled the photo. "My granddaughter is alive. Leonard's daughter has returned and I will make sure she gets her rights, and by God, I will not let Luigi touch her. If he wants a civil war to happen again, then I will give him hell. Take me to the true Queen of Volskey."