Page 62 of Veil of the Past
Matteo points toward the east side, where the red dot is blinking on his phone screen. “Over there,” he whispers. “That’s where the signal is strongest.”
We move closer, our footsteps silent on the cracked concrete. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. Every sense is heightened, every muscle tense. I know this could be a trap, that Helen could be waiting for us. But we don’t have a choice. We have to go in.
We reach the edge of the docks, slipping between the shadows. There’s a small cluster of buildings ahead, dark and silent, where the windows blacked out. My hand tightens around the handle of my gun, my heart racing.
Emiliano moves ahead, his gun drawn, his eyes scanning the area. He signals us forward, and we creep closer, our breaths coming in short, quick bursts. We reach a large metal door, and I press my ear against it, listening for any sound from within.
Nothing. Just silence.
Nicolo moves to the side, his back against the wall, his gun ready. “On three,” he whispers. “We go in.”
I nod. “One… Two… Three…”
We burst through the door, guns raised, ready for anything. The room is dark, the air cold, the walls lined with old shipping equipment. I can see a faint light in the back, flickering, and we move toward it, our footsteps silent.
Matteo is right behind us, his laptop still in his hands, his eyes focused on the screen. “The signal is right here,” he mutters. “We’re close…”
Three men emerge from the back, their guns raised. Gunfire cracks through the warehouse, echoing off rusted steel beams and concrete walls. I take cover behind a stack of crates, my grip steady on the pistol as I fire off two quick shots. One of them drops, clutching his stomach, a strangled curse spilling from his lips. The other two scramble for cover, but Emiliano flanks left, unloading his clip, forcing them into the open. A bullet whizzes past my ear, close enough to burn. I don’t flinch. Instead, I rise, take aim, and put one between the bastard’s eyes. He crumples, dead before he hits the ground. The last man standing knows he’s fucked. He backs toward the exit, shaking, weapon loose in his grip. “Drop it,” I order, stepping forward, my gun locked on him. He hesitates. Wrong move. A shot rings out—Nicolo’s this time—and he collapses, blood pooling beneath him. The warehouse falls silent, save for the distant crash of waves against the docks.
Suddenly, a voice crackles through a hidden speaker in the corner, cold and mocking. “Well done, boys,” Helen’s voice echoes through the room, sending a chill down my spine. “You found the place. But did you really think it would be that easy?”
I feel a surge of rage, my hand tightening on my gun. “Where are they?” I shout into the darkness. “Where are the girls?”
Helen laughs, the sound high and cruel. “Oh, you’ll find them soon enough,” she taunts. “But first, you’ll have to play my game. Let’s see how smart you really are, Romiro. Let’s see how much you care.”
The speaker cuts off, and the room is plunged into silence once more. I feel the rage rising inside me, threatening to boil over. Emiliano grabs my arm, his grip tight. “Stay calm,” he says, his voice low and steady. “We have to think this through.”
I nod, trying to steady my breathing, trying to focus. “Alright,” I say. “What’s our next move?”
Matteo glances at the laptop, his eyes narrowed. “The signal is still here,” he mutters. “But it’s bouncing around. She’s using multiple devices to throw us off.”
Nicolo steps forward, his expression determined. “Then we split up,” he says. “We cover more ground that way,but stay in contact. No one goes rogue.”
I turn to Matteo, my mind racing. “Can you keep tracking the signal?” I ask him.
He nods, his fingers moving over the keyboard. “I’ll do my best,” he says. “But it’s going to be tough. She’s good. Really good.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Then we need to be better,” I say. “We don’t have time to waste.”
We split up, moving through the darkened building with our senses on high alert. I can feel the tension winding tighter and tighter, my mind racing with possibilities. I know Helen is watching, waiting for us to make a mistake. But I won’t give her the satisfaction. I won’t let her win.
Not this time. Not ever again.
Suddenly, Matteo’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “I’ve got something.” he whispers. “There’s a room on the north side. The signal is strongest there. It’s probably a setup, but it’s our best shot.”
I nod, signaling Emiliano and Nicolo. “North side,” I whisper. “Let’s move.”
We make our way through the building, slipping through the shadows, our footsteps silent on the cold concrete. My thoughts racing. I know we’re close. I can feel it.
We reach the door, and I press my ear against it, listening. I hear faint sounds from within—movement, muffled voices. I glance at Emiliano, who nods, his gun ready.
I push the door open slowly, peering inside. The room is dark, but I can see shapes moving, figures. I step inside, my gun raised.
“Alessia?” I whisper, my voice low, desperate.
A figure steps forward, and I feel a surge of hope. Then, I see the face. Helen. Smiling, taunting, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“Hello, son,” she purrs. “Welcome to the party.”
