She Took Her Sister’s Blind Date To Help Her Escape — Then The Mafia Boss Across The Table Revealed He Had Been Waiting For Her Name For Years.

PART 4

“I believe you should have the option.”

“Your men have never seen the original survey. Two false floors, a collapsed branch, a maintenance shaft that won’t show on modern maps.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“My sister sent me into a planned attack on a crime organization. The definition of dangerous got flexible tonight.”

“You’re not trained for this.”

“I’m trained to read structures other people overlook. That’s the only reason you know where Preston is.”

His gaze moved over her face. She refused to lower her eyes. Finally he handed her a flashlight.

“Stay near me.”

“Tell your men to keep up.”

Marcus coughed into his fist, possibly hiding a laugh. Nikolai didn’t smile, but the severity around his eyes loosened.

—

The utility access sat in a narrow alley off Plymouth Court. Marcus’s team had it open inside five minutes. A steel ladder dropped into darkness.

Vivienne had spent her career studying old infrastructure. She’d never climbed into it at midnight with five men connected to Chicago’s underworld.

The tunnel smelled of standing water, rust, old stone. Original brick curved overhead, low enough that Marcus had to duck. Nikolai’s shoulders nearly brushed both walls. She walked in the center of the formation — protected, she realized, not controlled.

They hit the first junction after forty paces. “Right,” she whispered. Twelve steps later, she raised a hand. “Stop.”

The concrete floor ahead looked solid. It wasn’t.

“Maintenance pit under this section. Stay against the left wall. One at a time.”

Marcus crossed first. Then the others. Nikolai stayed behind her until she made it across safely.

“You knew that from a drawing over a century old?” he asked.

“I told you. I remember documents.”

“I’m beginning to understand the weight of that statement.”

The second false floor flexed under his weight, but she guided him across. At the end of the tunnel stood an old wooden door, hinges maintained with fresh oil, a modern alarm wire running its frame. One of Nikolai’s men bypassed it in seconds.

Beyond it, an abandoned underground level had been converted into a command center — document boxes, communications equipment, a humming generator, filing cabinets along one wall.

“These aren’t the accommodations of a man in hiding,” Vivienne whispered.

“No,” Nikolai said. “They’re the accommodations of a man who thought he was protected.”

Preston Cole sat behind a desk in the third room, phone in hand. His face cycled through disbelief, fear, and calculation fast enough that most people would have missed it.

Vivienne didn’t.

The phone slipped from his fingers. Nikolai crossed the room. “Sit.”

Preston sat. Then he saw Vivienne, and relief crossed his face.

That frightened her more than his surprise had.

“Vivienne Marchetti.”

“You know my name.”

“Delphine talked about you constantly. Her older sister. The responsible one. The one who always comes when she calls.”

“Do not use her family against her,” Nikolai said.

Preston ignored him. “She said you’d walk into a fire if she told you she was cold.”

The words landed. She didn’t let them move her.

“Where is she?”

“I can give you every account tied to Salvato. Every shell company. Every paid official. Every dollar.”

“Where is Delphine?” Nikolai repeated.

“Upstairs.”

Her heart seemed to pause. “She came back?”

Preston looked at her, and for the first time genuine guilt crossed his face. “She was supposed to leave. Made it to the airport. Changed her mind. Said she couldn’t leave you there once she understood what Salvato intended.”

“What did he intend?”

His silence lasted too long.

“To remove everyone,” Preston finally said. “You. Delphine. Me. Anyone who could connect him to the operation.”

He hadn’t built an escape. He’d built a grave and mistaken it for a fortress.

Nikolai ordered Marcus to collect every file and drive. Vivienne moved to the monitors. One showed the restaurant. The other showed the Plymouth Court alley — three dark vehicles, armed men stepping out.

“They found the access,” she said.

Preston’s face emptied. “That isn’t my team.”

“Salvato?” Nikolai asked.

Preston nodded. “He doesn’t trust loose ends.”

Men closed in from both directions, one group through the tunnel, another through the building above. They were trapped underground.

Then Vivienne noticed one of Nikolai’s men staring at the monitor — the same one who’d bypassed the alarm wire with suspicious speed. His expression wasn’t fear. It was satisfaction.

“Nikolai,” she said quietly.

He followed her gaze as the man lunged toward the communications desk. Marcus intercepted him, drove him against the wall before he reached the controls. A transmitter fell from his hand.

“How long?” Nikolai asked the traitor.