"Nyx?" I gasped, my voice broken and disbelieving.
Rook fired again, sending a burst of covering fire through the tunnel. The sound was deafening. He shot in controlled, three-round bursts that kept our pursuers pinned down.
"Chat later!" Nyx yelled, her voice sharp and commanding. She grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. Her night-vision goggles made her look otherworldly, but to me, she was the most beautiful sight. "Old man, can you run?" she shouted at Marchand.
"I can," he wheezed, his frail body now filled with a desperate energy.
"Rook, you're on rear guard!" Nyx commanded. "Hold them. Buy us ninety seconds. Leo!" She threw a small, military-grade first-aid pack to him. "Pressure and seal. You're with me. Assets in the middle. We move!"
There was no time to argue or ask questions. Nyx was a whirlwind of energy. She took the lead, weapon ready, her goggles cutting through the pitch-black darkness as if it were day. I grabbed Marchand's arm and pulled him along. Leo, pale and slick with sweat but determined, covered us from the back with Rook, both of them a stumbling wall of defense.
We ran. This was not a panicked flight; it was a tactical retreat. Nyx guided us through the maze with an unyielding confidence that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
"How?" I panted, my lungs burning as we half-dragged Marchand through a knee-deep section of cold water. "How did you find us? We were dark! We were buried!"
"The boss has been in the air for an hour, circling the city like an angry dragon," Nyx called back, never slowing. "He's been screaming your name on comms, losing his mind."
"But the signal..."
"Your earpiece is dead," she confirmed. "But the necklace? The 'pretty' little rock he gave you?"
I instinctively touched my throat. The sapphire.
"It's been sending a low-level, encrypted signal every sixty seconds. As soon as you went underground, the signal changed. It stopped talking to the satellite and started bouncing off old copper utility lines and iron pipes... anything that could carry it. It was a digital mess, like trying to find a whisper in a rock concert. But I'm very good at finding whispers."
Dante's suffocating, paranoid protectiveness had just saved our lives. He had prepared for a failure that was beyond imagination.
"They're pushing hard!" Rook's voice echoed from behind us, followed by another exchange of gunfire. "They're not operators, Leo; they're fanatics! They don't care about their own losses!"
"Just keep moving!" Leo shouted back, his voice strained.
We burst into a wider chamber with slightly fresher air. It was a vast cellar, supported by thick Romanesque pillars. At the far end, about fifty yards away, stood a large, arched wooden door.
"That's it!" Marchand gasped, pointing a trembling finger. "The old wine cellar! It leads to the sacristy! To the cathedral!"
We were almost there. We could almost taste the fresh air.
"Go! Get it open!" Leo yelled. He and Rook took defensive positions at the tunnel's entrance, firing back at the beams of light flooding the passage.
Nyx and I half-carried, half-dragged Marchand across the uneven stone floor. We slammed against the massive wooden door, an ancient slab of oak and iron. It was locked. A huge, rusted iron bar was set across it, held in place by two thick brackets.
"It's barred!" I yelled, my voice cracking with despair. "Nyx, can you..."
"It's not locked; it's barred," she said, examining it. "From the other side. We're trapped. This is it."
A sharp cry echoed across the cellar. Rook stumbled, clutching his leg. "I'm hit!"
Leo grabbed him, firing one-handed, pulling the injured soldier toward us. The Syndicate team reached the tunnel's mouth, fanning out with their weapons raised. They had us cornered. We were in a cold, stone box with no escape.
"No..." I whispered, sagging against the unmoving door. After everything. The ledger felt impossibly heavy in my jacket.
I pounded on the door with my fist, a single, futile act of rage. "Damn it! Open!"
Then I heard it. A sound from the other side.
The unmistakable metallic scrape of the heavy iron bar being lifted.
My breath caught. Nyx, Leo, and I froze, turning to stare at the door, our guns and our fight forgotten.
With a deep, groaning creak that echoed through the cellar, the ancient wooden door swung open.
A tall, imposing figure stood silhouetted against the dim light of the sacristy. He was in a wrinkled black suit, his tie ripped off, his hair a mess. He was supposed to be in the sky, a frantic voice in my ear. But he was here.
He took in the scene in a single glance: the two injured men, Nyx, Marchand, and finally me, pressed against the wall, covered in mud and blood.
His green eyes, a furious and beautiful shade of emerald, locked onto mine. A universe of terror, rage, and overwhelming relief passed between us.
"Took you long enough," Dante Moretti said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
He reached out, wrapping his hand around my arm, and pulled me across the threshold, into his arms, and out of the darkness.