Chapter 8 - The Verdict of the Dawn
The heavy steel doors of the vault groaned as the hydraulic seals finally released from the inside.
Lorenzo DeLuca stepped out into the flooded chamber, flanked by his remaining three guards. The older mafia boss looked exhausted, his pristine suit jacket rumpled, but his eyes were sharp as they scanned the ruined room.
He looked at the unconscious tactical operatives tied up with zip-ties against the pillars. He looked at Carlo, who was sitting on the floor in handcuffs, staring blankly at the concrete. Finally, his gaze moved to his son, who was standing uninjured near the exit, and then to Mia Callaway.
Mia was currently sitting on an upturned equipment crate, trying to wring the water out of the bottom of her left trouser leg. She looked up as Lorenzo approached.
The powerful crime boss stood over her for a long, silent moment. The silence dragged on for so long that even the guards looked uncomfortable.
"You're a mess, Miss Callaway," Lorenzo said finally, his voice deep and gravelly.
"I am aware," Mia said, not looking up from her shoe. "Your floorboards are extremely slippery when wet. Someone should really put down some non-slip mats."
Lorenzo looked at his son. "Is it true? What the guards told me over the radio? She found the loop? She took out the breach team?"
"She did," Matteo said, a distinct note of pride in his voice. "She also figured out Carlo was the leak before the lights even went out. If it weren't for her, father, you’d be suffocating in that vault right now, and I’d be at the bottom of the river."
Lorenzo turned back to Mia. He looked at her slight frame, her damp clothes, and the undeniable air of absolute competence that surrounded her despite her disheveled appearance.
Slowly, the older man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a heavy, gold-plated pen. He didn't offer a handshake—that wasn't his way—but he placed the pen gently on the crate next to her.
"A token of appreciation," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a tone of rare respect. "The Varro Security Agency will receive triple their standard fee for this night. And as for you..."
He paused, looking her straight in the eye.
"My son requires a permanent personal-protection officer. The contract is for five years, with a retention bonus that will buy you ten apartments with whatever rugs you prefer. The only condition is that you remain in this house."
Mia stopped wringing her trouser leg. She looked at the gold pen, then at Lorenzo, and finally at Matteo, who was watching her with a quiet, hopeful smile.
"Five years?" Mia asked.
"Five years," Lorenzo confirmed.
Mia stood up, her left shoe making a loud, wet squelch as she did. She lost her balance for a fraction of a second, her shoulder brushing against Lorenzo’s immaculate sleeve before she stabilized herself.
The guards tensed, but Lorenzo simply raised a hand to stay them, a faint, incredibly rare smile touching the corners of his mouth.
"I accept the contract," Mia said, straightening her damp blazer. "But under one condition."
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"Name it," Lorenzo said.
"Carlo’s old office," Mia said. "The one with the nice view of the courtyard? I want it. And the first thing I'm doing is throwing out that trash can."
