Kidnapping the Assassin: The Mafia Don’s Fatal Mistake

The Blood Labyrinth

Chapter 11

[Cassian]

Twenty-four hours later.

The viewing room of the High Table was suspended above the catacombs like a vulture's nest.

The walls were lined with monitors, feeding black-and-white security footage from the labyrinth below. I sat in a high-backed leather chair, my hands gripped so tightly on the armrests that the wood was splintering under my fingers.

To my left sat the Emissary. To my right, Marco.

My uncle was smiling. He was swirling a glass of scotch, acting as though we were watching a sporting event and not the execution of my wife.

"She has spirit, your little assassin," Marco chuckled, looking at the main screen. "But spirit doesn't stop bullets."

"If you speak to me again, Marco, I will rip your tongue out and feed it to you," I stated, not taking my eyes off the monitor.

On the screen, Elara was standing in the antechamber of the Gauntlet. She had traded the ivory silk gown for a pair of black tactical pants, combat boots, and a tight black tank top. Her right hand the thumb still swollen and bruised was wrapped in white athletic tape.

A High Table guard approached her on the screen, holding out a wooden box.

Elara opened it. Inside was a single, heavily serrated combat knife. She took the blade, flipping it expertly in her hand, testing the balance. She didn't look scared. She looked bored.

"Let the Gauntlet begin," the Emissary announced, pressing a button on his console.

On the screen, the heavy iron portcullis in front of Elara groaned open, revealing the dark, winding stone tunnels of the catacombs. She stepped inside without hesitating.

The portcullis slammed shut behind her.

My heart was in my throat. I watched her feed on Monitor 4 as she moved silently through the stone corridors.

"The rules are simple," the Emissary narrated for the room, though I already knew them by heart. "She must traverse three sectors. At the end of each sector is a gatekeeper. If she defeats them, she advances. If she dies... her soul belongs to the catacombs."

For the first ten minutes, nothing happened. Elara moved like a ghost, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the tripwires I knew were hidden in the cobblestones.

But then, she entered Sector One. A large, circular chamber illuminated by flickering torches.

A figure stepped out from the shadows on the opposite side of the room.

I leaned forward, my blood turning to ice.

It wasn't a High Table enforcer. The man was wearing a tactical rig, twin suppressed pistols, and a dark mask covering the lower half of his face. He moved with a hyper-lethal precision that I recognized instantly.

"That's not an enforcer," I snarled, turning on Marco. "That's a Guild assassin!"

Marco took a sip of his scotch, his smile widening. "The High Table employs many freelancers, Nephew. Don't be a sore loser."

My mind raced. Marco hadn't just hired the Guild to frame Elara for my father's murder. He had formed a full alliance with them. He gave the Guild access to the Gauntlet to eliminate their rogue asset.

On the screen, the Guild assassin drew his pistols.

"Elara, move," I whispered to the glass, utterly helpless.

The assassin fired.

Elara dove behind a stone pillar just as the bullets sparked off the masonry. She was trapped. She only had a knife, and he had firearms. The assassin began slowly advancing on her position, laying down suppressive fire.

"It's over," Marco sneered.

I held my breath.

But Elara didn't cower. On the monitor, I saw her pull the white athletic tape off her injured right hand. She tied the tape to the hilt of her combat knife.

The assassin stepped around the pillar, raising his guns for the kill shot.

Elara whipped her arm out. She threw the knife by the tape, turning it into a makeshift rope-dart. The heavy, serrated blade flew through the air and embedded itself directly into the assassin's throat.

Blood sprayed across the stone. The assassin dropped his guns, clutching his neck in shock.

Elara yanked the tape, pulling the knife back into her hand. She stepped out from cover, walked up to the dying man, and snapped his neck to end his suffering.

Silence descended on the viewing room.

Marco's scotch glass halted halfway to his mouth.

I let out a shaky breath, a dark, proud smirk forming on my lips. "Like I said, Marco. She's the Viper."

But my triumph was short-lived.

Elara crouched down to pick up the dead man’s pistols. As her fingers brushed the grips, an alarm blared loudly through the viewing room speakers.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

On the monitors, the torches in the catacombs suddenly extinguished. Backup emergency lights clicked on, bathing the labyrinth in a sickly, flashing red glow.

"What is that?" I demanded, looking at the Emissary.

The ancient man looked genuinely confused. He typed furiously on his console. "The system... it's been overridden. The blast doors are sealing."

On the screens, heavy steel blast doors slammed shut at the end of every corridor. Elara was locked in the circular chamber.

And then, from the grates in the ceiling of her chamber, thick, green gas began to pour into the room.

"Neurotoxin," Marco whispered, feigning shock, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "A tragic malfunction in the catacombs' ventilation system. What a shame."

I didn't think. The civilized Don, the strategic leader of the Rossi syndicate, vanished in a heartbeat.

I drew my gun, pressed it directly to the Emissary’s forehead, and cocked the hammer.

"Open the doors," I roared, my voice shaking the glass of the viewing room.

"I can't!" the old man gasped, his hands trembling. "The system is locked from the outside! It will take hours to override!"

On the monitor, Elara was coughing, dropping to her knees. She pulled her shirt up over her mouth, but it was useless against weaponized gas.

I looked at the screen, watching the woman I loved suffocating in a glass box.

I lowered my gun, turned around, and shattered the reinforced glass window of the viewing room with the butt of my pistol.

"Cassian! You cannot interfere!" Marco yelled. "If you enter the Gauntlet, your bloodline is forfeit! You lose the throne!"

I didn't even look back at him.

"Keep the throne," I snarled.

I stepped up onto the window ledge and jumped down into the darkness of the labyrinth.