Chapter 3 - The Crash of the Flagpole
Victoria’s sharp eyes darted past Salvatore’s broad shoulder, hunting for any route of escape down the wide curve of the staircase.
She saw Dante and Marcus converging at the foot of the stairs, their faces carved from stone and their hands hovering near their lapels.
Desperation overtook her calculated elegance as she feinted to the left, attempting to dart past her husband's towering frame.
Salvatore moved with the cold precision of an apex predator expecting the prey's desperate lunge.
Instead of an uncontrolled grapple, he planted his back foot and delivered a single, brutal defensive kick directly into her path.
The sole of his polished dress shoe caught the center of Victoria's torso with uncompromising, thunderous force.
The breath blasted from her lungs in a wet gasp as her balance shattered entirely.
Her black high heels snapped against the polished edge of the lower landing steps.
Victoria tumbled backward down the final five steps of the staircase in a flurry of emerald fabric and flailing limbs.
Her heavy diamond earrings clattered violently against the marble risers as she slid toward the foyer floor.
Her descent ended with a catastrophic crash against the heavy ornamental pedestal of the mansion's indoor decorative flagpole.
The tall brass pole, bearing the estate's embroidered crest, rocked violently upon its massive cast-iron base.
The sheer kinetic force of her collision sheared the heavy base sideways across the seamless marble flooring.
The metal edge of the pedestal slammed with pinpoint precision into a subtle decorative seam beneath the grand staircase.
A sharp, metallic latch snapped open with the violent crack of a small-caliber gunshot.
The sound reverberated sharply beneath the vaulted ceiling, drawing the immediate gaze of both armed bodyguards.
A heavy square slab of reinforced marble flooring suddenly shifted and popped upward by nearly two inches.
A dark, rectangular fissure appeared directly beside the displaced flagpole pedestal, exhaling a draft of damp, frigid air into the opulent foyer.
Victoria scrambled onto her elbows, her long blonde waves spilled wildly over her bruised face.
The moment her eyes landed on the popped floor panel, the breath seized in her throat and her porcelain skin turned paper-white.
All her arrogant defiance vanished into an abyss of raw, unadulterated terror.
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She ignored her bruised ribs and began clawing frantically across the floor toward the gap.
"No!" she screamed, her voice cracking into a jagged shriek of pure panic.
