Calculated Sins

The Lions Den

Over the low, humming vibration of an elite underground club, and chatter of high-society accents, classical piano music played in the background, and the clinking of champagne flutes carried on as well, casting an eerie layer of elegance over the room.

The auctioneer announced over a crisp microphone, his voice loud and clear.

“Moving on to lot number fourteen. A rare, nineteenth-century oil painting titled ‘the fall of empires’. Bidding starts at five hundred thousand dollars. Do I hear six hundred?”

Vittoria’s eyes scanned the room, her voice soft, trembling, and layered as she muttered under breath, mostly to herself.

“Look at these vultures. They think I’m here because I need art to fill the empty halls of the sterling mansion.”

She scoffed, her tone dropping to a lethal chill. She knew that behind the canvas of lot fourteen is an encrypted solid-state drive. My father’s true will. The one he had been murdered him to hide.

The silk of her mourning veil rustled as Vittoria adjusts it. A device in her ear emits a low double-beep.

Very subtly, Vittoria whispered into a hidden collar mic. “Oracle, override the security mainframe. Give me sixty seconds of blind spots in the vault hallway.”

As if he had been waiting for her, Julian’s voice suddenly came right behind her, smooth and laced with tequila-soaked charm.

“You know, black really is your color, Mrs. Sterling. But buying art won’t bring back the dead. Gambling it all away on the roulette table, however… now that’s a distraction.”

Vittoria didn’t expect him. She gasps subtly. The sound of ice clinking in a glass distracted her for a second as Julian leans in close.

Vittoria who always ready to go, put on her public persona— a breathless, fragile woman.

“Mr. Valerius. You… you startled me. I didn’t know you frequented these… unlisted gatherings. I thought you were banned from your family’s venues.”

“Oh, I am banned. But i’ve always had a bad habit of slipping through the cracks,” he paused.

“I go where the numbers don’t make sense. Speaking of which…” Julian’s voice drops, instantly dropping the drunk act, now razor-sharp. “Someone is running a brute-force bypass on the house server right now. The digital signature is incredibly clean. A ghost in the machine. Care to guess whose ghost it is?”

“I’m a widow, Julian, not an IT specialist. Now if you’ll excuse me, the room is getting quite claustrophobic,” she replied, playing it cool.

Vittoria’s heels hustle away on the marble floor, quickening as the piano music fades.

Although her pace was fast, she knew Julian was tracking the hack. She had to pull the trigger now.

With a sharp metallic click, the sudden hiss of a smoke canister deploying sounded in the room. Popping sounds as the auction room lamps short-circuited followed. The crowd exploded into confused shouts, and screams.

Over the walkie-talkie, distorted voices came through.

“Breach in section 4! The vault corridor! Lock down the sectors!”

The sound of running combat boots, then Vittoria’s coughing, followed by the snap of a metal panel being ripped open could almost be missed. The hollow echo of Vittoria crawling through a metal ventilation shaft, then she breathing heavily as she made to complete her mission.

“Got it. The drive is in my pocket. Just fifty meters to the service alley escape,” she muttered, almost as if she had to boost her morale.

Before Vittoria could move an inch more, an alarm system kicked in —a piercing, rhythmic siren. Underneath it, a digital countdown timer began ticking on her phone, as if increasing in speed with each passing second.

“Damn it, the backup grid is locking the secondary gates. I have ten seconds before this entire block becomes a steel cage,” Vittoria reminded herself.

With a loud thud, Vittoria jumped down from the vent outlet into a rain-slicked alleyway. The sirens were quite there. Panting, she reached for her pocket, looking for something.

“My keys… where are my—

The sharp, rhythmic clink of metal keys being tossed in the air, and caught in a palm attracted her attention.

Julian, leaning against the driver's side door of her hidden sports car, dripped with rain.

“Looking for these, little viper?”

Vittoria stilled, voice dropping, and lethal. “Give me the keys, Julian. I don’t have time for your games. The house security is coming through that door in five seconds.”

Smirking, Julian replied.

“I know. And i’ve got a digital signature that matches the drive in your jacket. So here’s the deal: I drive, you talk, or we both find out what the Valerius’ family does to thieves.”

The digital countdown timer hits zero, and a loud, continuous electronic beep as the heavy steel security doors of the club explode open behind them and footsteps rush out.

“Decision time, Mrs. Sterling,” Julian said, the tension as hard as a bass sting.