The metal stairs of the upper gantry groaned under our weight, but we didn’t stop at the top. Luciano’s grip on my waist was like a vice, pulling me toward the darkest corner of the warehouse where the massive smelting furnaces stood like silent, rusted giants. Behind us, the shouts of Silvio’s men were getting closer. The clatter of their boots on the iron stairs sounded like a drumroll for our execution.
"There's no way out, Luciano," I choked out, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it would crack my ribs. The air up here was thick with the smell of old grease and the metallic tang of fear.
"There is always a way out, Siena," he growled, his voice a low, vibrating rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't look at the stairs. He looked at a narrow, rusted maintenance hatch h
