Chapter 3: The Tunnel of Fire
The first bullet hit concrete inches from Dante’s head.
He grabbed Mara and slammed her against the wall.
“Down!”
Gunfire filled the tunnel.
Concrete exploded.
Dust blinded everyone.
Dante fired twice.
One gunman dropped.
Another screamed.
“Move!”
They ran.
The tunnel twisted sharply.
Bullets chased them through the dark.
A masked attacker lunged from a side passage.
Mara ducked.
The rifle swung toward Dante.
She drove her shoulder into the man’s ribs.
He stumbled.
The weapon discharged into the ceiling.
Dante shot him point-blank.
More footsteps.
“They’re flanking us!”
A steel security gate crashed down behind them.
Three gunmen emerged from the smoke.
Dante emptied his magazine.
Click.
Out.
One attacker smiled.
Mara spotted a rusted maintenance lever.
“Get back!”
She yanked it with both hands.
Steam erupted from broken pipes.
Scalding vapor blasted across the tunnel.
The gunmen screamed.
Dante grabbed a fallen rifle.
“Run!”
They crossed a narrow bridge suspended above a deep maintenance shaft.
Halfway across—
An explosion.
The bridge lurched violently.
Metal cables snapped.
The walkway tilted.
Mara slipped.
Dante caught her wrist.
She hung over darkness.
The bridge groaned.
“Let go!” she shouted.
“No.”
More gunmen appeared at the far end.
Dante pulled her up.
They hit the ground running.
The gray-haired man stepped into view.
He wasn’t chasing them.
He was waiting.
“You’re making the same mistake your father made.”
Dante raised the rifle.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“My name doesn’t matter.”
He looked at Mara.
“Hers does.”
He pulled a small remote from his pocket.
Dante fired.
The bullet struck the remote.
Too late.
A deafening blast ripped through the tunnel.
The floor collapsed.
Dante and Mara were thrown into the shaft.
They crashed through rotten support beams.
Then water.
Freezing black water.
The current dragged them through an underground river.
Dante surfaced first.
“Mara!”
She broke through the surface twenty feet away.
He reached her.
They were inside a flooded cavern beneath the estate.
Moonlight filtered through cracks in the rock.
Mara coughed violently.
Her hand hit something floating beside her.
A body.
One of the gunmen.
His mask had come off.
She froze.
“I know him.”
Dante turned sharply.
“What?”
“I’ve seen his face.”
“Where?”
She stared at the dead man.
“In my dreams.”
Footsteps echoed above them.
The gray-haired man stood on the broken ledge, looking down.
He didn’t shoot.
He simply called out,
“She remembers.”
Then he disappeared.
Dante looked at Mara.
“You’ve never been here before.”
“I know.”
“Then how did you recognize him?”
Mara didn’t answer.
Because she was staring at the dead man’s neck.
Burned into his skin was a black tattoo.
A winged lion.
The same symbol engraved on her key.
The same symbol that had appeared in every nightmare she had ever had.
Dante searched the corpse.
He found a folded photograph sealed in plastic.
He unfolded it.
The picture showed a burning mansion.
A little girl stood in the flames.
A man was carrying her away.
The girl was Mara.
The man carrying her was Dante’s father.
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And someone had written across the back in fresh black ink.
She must never remember.
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