Chapter 8 - The Breach in the Wall
Before I could answer, a low, guttural scrape echoed from deep within the dark void behind the broken concrete slab. It sounded like heavy timber dragging across stone, followed by a faint, metallic clinking that sent a shiver straight down my spine. Matteo instantly stepped in front of me, his body forming a solid wall between my small frame and the gaping opening in the masonry. His silver watch caught the pale light as he raised his left arm, his hand resting instinctively near the heavy iron crowbar still gripped in his right fist.
"Stay right behind me," Matteo said, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that brooked no argument.
I pressed closer to his back, my hands gripping the fabric of his fitted black suit jacket. Lily stirred against my spine, letting out a tiny, whimpering sound, but she didn't wake up. The smell coming from the cavity was overwhelming now—a mixture of stagnant air, old paper, and something sweet and faintly chemical, like old linoleum baking under a radiator for fifty years. It wasn't the smell of a monster or a ghost; it was the distinct aroma of a forgotten human habitation.
Matteo raised the flashlight, sweeping the beam into the pitch-black interior of the tunnel. The light cut through billowing clouds of grey dust, illuminating a narrow brick-lined corridor that stretched far beyond the footprint of the modern library above. To our left, rusted metal tracks ran along the floor—part of an old dumbwaiter system that had been abandoned when the estate was modernized in the seventies.
"Look there," Matteo whispered, pointing the beam toward a rusted iron lever set into the brick wall a few feet inside the tunnel.
Scuffed bootprints marked the thick layer of dust on the floor beneath the lever. They weren't ancient prints covered in decades of grime; they were fresh, sharp outlines left by rubber-soled shoes, pointing directly toward the hidden network of service shafts that connected the Duca estate to the older carriage house on the far side of the property. Someone had been living down here, using the old service routes to move through the house unseen, dodging the security cameras and locking mechanisms that Matteo trusted implicitly.
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"Someone's been using this to get inside," I whispered into the space between his shoulder blades.
Matteo didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, the trimmed beard shifting as he ground his teeth. He realized then that his fortress wasn't as secure as he believed.
