Page 81 of The Eagle's Vault

Thedampchillofthe catacombs snaked through my clothes, crawling under my skin. Jeans and a loose T-shirt weren’t enough down here. The smell of earth and decay consumed my senses. Terror ran through my veins, turning my blood cold. When the corridor had widened just enough that we could walk side-by-side, Isaac had wrapped his hand around mine. Just as unlike him as the hugs he’d offered in the hotel hallway.

“Leigh, stay with me,” he whispered. His eyes, swollen from the blow he’d taken in the van, were still determined. I’d seen him play the tough guy before, but never when it counted. Never when it was me on the line.

I squeezed Isaac’s hand, forcing a smile onto my lips.

Ahead of us, Dr. Daniel Weber’s shoulders slouched and he walked with a noticeable limp. He’d been slumped in the back of the van next to me. No surprise, our kidnappers hadn’t introduced us, but I recognized him from the photo in the notebook.

Daniel carried the lead flashlight, walking fast despite his condition, obviously aware of the direction he was going. He’d worked for Giovanni Ferraro, researching the vault; how many times had he been down with the thugs? And had they caused the limp?

The ancient Roman frescoes came alive in the shifting shadows from his flashlight and the two carried behind us. Enzo was the mouthpiece, the boss with the barest hint of an Italian accent. His eyes glinted with a cruel satisfaction. Pavel was the muscle, a snarling guard dog on a short leash, Russian or some other Slavic accent tinging his words.

They’d made their intentions clear in the van: we were going to the vault and it was to be opened tonight.

Enzo’s words rolled around in my brain, piling on top of my fear. “No more stalling, Daniel. You have your experts. No more delays.” His impatience was palpable, a thick fog in the already stifling air. The Fenix Group, the mysterious masters they served, were finally going to get what they wanted.

Fenix. Was it true what Declan had said? Had someone at Barton created a copy of the manuscript case for them? Had it really been Isaac?

As we continued to wind through the narrow passages, the sensation of being trapped magnified with each step.

Isaac leaned in closer, keeping his volume down. “We just need to get to the vault, open it, and then we’re out. We pretend none of this ever happened.”

I fought against the urge to look over my shoulder to Enzo and Pavel. The metallic glint from their waistbands earlier hadn’t gone unnoticed. Guns. Even if we opened the vault, the odds of us walking out unscathed seemed bleak.

When were Declan and Jayce leaving the hotel? Would they be inside already? Ahead of us? Behind us? Would their map be right?

They’d notice something amiss. They’d save us.

They had to.

My mouth was dry, but I leaned toward Isaac. “Declan and—”

Before I could finish, a sharp finger prodded my back.

Pavel said, “No whispering.”

Enzo’s laugh cut through the space. “Come now, Leigh. We’re all friends here. You’ve got nothing to hide from us, right?” He laughed again, and the weight in the air grew heavier.

Isaac tightened his grip on my hand, giving me a look that pleaded for discretion. But inside, my mind was racing. If Declan was here, he’d figure something out. He took care of me in the Cassaforte vault and again in the city when Leonardo came after us.

Unless I’d screwed up so royally, he’d just leave without me.

Isaac craned his neck, shooting a venomous look at Enzo and Pavel. His voice had a rare edge to it. “Let my sister go. You don’t need her.”

Enzo shifted into playful taunts. “Maybe. Let’s see how she does with the vault first.”

Daniel, his flashlight sweeping in front of us, said, “We were supposed to have the Reynolds’ safe cracker down here. Where is he?”

Confusion knotted inside my chest. Declan was supposed to be with them? Was that the plan Scarlett had worked out with Giovanni Ferraro?

“Fucking Reynolds Recoveries.” Enzo spat in disgust. “We brought him to Rome for the Cassaforte job because you couldn’t get your notebook from Ferraro. He’s not the one we wanted for the eagle’s vault.”

“We’ve got the real expert with us.” Pavel snickered, and my breath hitched at the level of disdain filling his words. “Isaac here created the case for the San Marco Codex manuscript. Did you know that, Daniel? Surely, the catacombs vault is child’s play for him.”

A jolt of anger surged through me.I designed that case, not Isaac.The intricate mechanisms, the artistic flair, every bit was mine. Declan’s warning came back to me: Isaac duplicating my designs. A hint of betrayal slithered through my insides.

Shouldn’t I have looked through our full inventory of schematics at some point? Instead of simply designing and building in my little office?

“I doubt that very much,” muttered Daniel, as he took a turn into a wider tunnel. Bricks lined an archway at the turn, and we passed walls where it appeared some tombs were still intact.

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