Kidnapping the Assassin: The Mafia Don’s Fatal Mistake

The Throne of Lies

Chapter 33

**[Elara]**

The massive steel blast doors separating the turbine room from the Commission’s inner sanctum were thick enough to stop a bunker-busting missile. They weren’t going to yield to a crowbar. 

Cassian walked right up to the center seam of the doors. He didn't raise the heavy iron bar to strike. Instead, he jammed the flattened edge deep into the narrow gap where the two steel slabs met, right above the electronic locking mechanism. 

He looked back at me, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy. 

"I need you to short the circuit," he commanded, his voice cold and steady. "When the magnet releases, I'll pry the seam."

I limped forward, my sodden combat suit dripping freezing water onto the pristine floor. My right hand was a blistered, agonizing mess from the magnesium flare, so I used my left. I drew the last remaining piece of tech from my belt a high-voltage EMP disruptor I usually used to bypass cartel security systems. 

I pressed the device against the glowing red control panel next to the door. 

"On three," I said, my teeth chattering from the cold. 

"One. Two. Three."

I hit the button. 

A violent shower of blue sparks exploded from the panel. The heavy electromagnetic hum of the blast doors suddenly died, leaving only the deafening roar of the turbines behind us. 

Cassian didn't hesitate. He threw his entire body weight against the crowbar. 

The muscles in his back and shoulders bunched, tearing through his ruined shirt. The cast on his right hand cracked under the impossible pressure, but he didn't stop. He let out a feral, guttural roar that echoed over the rushing water, forcing the heavy steel slabs apart inch by excruciating inch. 

The gap widened just enough. 

"Go!" Cassian ordered, his boots slipping on the wet concrete as he held the immense weight of the doors open. 

I slipped through the gap sideways, my gun raised. Cassian abandoned the crowbar and slid through right behind me, the massive steel doors instantly slamming shut with a terrifying, definitive thud. 

We were in. 

The viewing chamber of the High Table was not a room; it was an auditorium of power. 

It was entirely circular, built like an ancient Roman amphitheater. The walls were lined with monitors displaying the chaos happening on the mountain above us. Twelve ornate, high-backed thrones carved from black obsidian sat elevated on a curved dais. 

Only one throne was occupied. 

Sitting in the absolute center, calmly steepiling his wrinkled fingers, was the Emissary. 

He didn't look surprised. He didn't look afraid. He looked like an old man waiting for a delayed train. 

Four remaining Praetorian Guards stood at the base of the dais, their electrified blades already drawn and humming. 

"Cassian Rossi," the Emissary rasped, his voice echoing perfectly in the acoustic chamber. "You are remarkably difficult to kill. I must commend your resilience. And your wife..." The old man’s pale, milky eyes shifted to me. "The Viper never fails to disappoint. You burned a man's face off to save your husband. How delightfully poetic."

I aimed my pistol directly at the old man's chest. "Call off the Arbiters on the surface. Surrender the Citadel."

The Emissary laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound, like autumn leaves scraping across a tombstone. 

"Surrender?" he mocked softly. "My dear, naive assassin. The Citadel is not the High Table. It is merely a server room. A convenient location to house the archives. The Commission does not reside in a mountain. We reside in the shadows of every government, every cartel, and every syndicate on earth. You have destroyed a building. You have not destroyed a god."

"Then we'll settle for killing the priest," Cassian growled, stepping forward, his left hand gripping his Sig Sauer. 

The Emissary waved a dismissive hand. The four Praetorian Guards advanced, moving in a flawless, synchronized wedge formation. 

"Kill them," the Emissary ordered boredly. "Make it slow. I want to watch the Don weep as his wife bleeds."

The guards charged. 

We had no cover. We had nowhere to run. It was an open, circular room, and we were entirely exposed. 

"Left side is mine," I yelled, dropping into a defensive stance, ignoring the agonizing pain radiating from my spine. 

"Right side," Cassian replied, standing back-to-back with me. 

The clash was instantaneous. 

The first guard swung a massive overhead strike. I rolled under the humming blade, the electrical current singeing the damp hair on the back of my neck. I didn't try to stab him. I aimed my pistol at the heavy power pack strapped to the lower curve of his spine and fired twice. 

The battery ruptured. A massive electrical discharge shocked the guard’s own suit, locking his muscles in a violent, paralyzing seizure. He dropped like a stone. 

Cassian fought with absolute, terrifying brutality. He didn't use elegance. He used the raw, unhinged power of a man who had everything to lose. He fired a shot into the knee of the second guard, dropping him, then stepped in and used his heavy, cast-wrapped right hand as a club, smashing it directly into the guard’s ballistic visor until the glass completely shattered. 

The third guard lunged at Cassian’s exposed flank. 

I spun, firing three rounds into the side of the guard's helmet, violently diverting his trajectory. 

It left me completely open. 

The fourth guard didn't swing his sword. He dropped his shoulder and tackled me with the force of a battering ram. 

I flew backward, slamming brutally into the base of the obsidian dais. The air was punched from my lungs. My vision went completely white. I tasted copper. 

Before I could recover, the massive guard placed his heavy armored boot directly onto my injured right hand, crushing my blistered fingers against the marble floor. 

I screamed a raw, agonizing sound that tore my throat raw. 

Cassian snapped his head around. He saw the guard raise his electrified blade directly above my chest for the killing strike. 

The Don of the Rossi Syndicate didn't shoot. He didn't run. 

Cassian launched his pistol directly at the guard's head, the heavy metal frame stunning the executioner for a microsecond. In that fraction of a second, Cassian closed the distance, diving over my body. 

He didn't tackle the guard. He grabbed the glowing, electrified blade with his bare left hand. 

The smell of burning flesh instantly filled the chamber. Cassian roared in absolute agony, the high-voltage current rippling through his entire body. But he didn't let go. He held the blade inches from my chest, his muscles violently locking under the electrical surge. 

"Cassian! Let go!" I sobbed, frantically kicking at the guard's leg. 

"Never," Cassian ground out through clenched teeth, his dark eyes locked entirely on the guard’s face. 

With a terrifying surge of impossible, adrenaline-fueled strength, Cassian yanked the blade completely out of the guard's hands. He spun the humming sword around and drove it straight up into the unarmored gap beneath the executioner's chin. 

The guard convulsed and fell backward, dead before he hit the marble. 

Cassian dropped the sword. He collapsed onto his knees beside me, his breathing ragged and shallow. Both of his hands were now entirely ruined. His left palm was a charred, smoking mess. 

He looked down at me, ignoring his own catastrophic injuries, and gently brushed a stray hair from my tear-streaked face. 

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice trembling. 

I couldn't speak. I just pulled his head down, burying my face in his neck, crying tears of absolute, profound relief. 

A slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the massive chamber. 

We looked up. 

The Emissary was standing at the edge of the dais, looking down at us. He held a small, black remote detonator in his wrinkled hand. 

"A beautiful display of devotion," the Emissary rasped, a cruel, victorious smile stretching his thin lips. "But ultimately useless. You have breached the archive, Elara. But you cannot leave with it."

He raised his thumb over the red button. 

"The Citadel is wired with thermite," the old man stated coldly. "In ten seconds, this entire mountain will collapse into a fiery grave. The Commission sends its regards."

The Emissary pressed the button.