Chapter 128: "The Don’s Son"

The maintenance tunnels leading to the maze were a maze in their own right.

Long, narrow corridors stretched endlessly ahead before breaking into another turn, another passage, another identical stretch of concrete illuminated only by dim maintenance lights overhead.

Oscar led the way with six carefully chosen men close behind him.

Although they had grown up inside the Marchetti compound, few of them had ever had reason to venture into the maintenance tunnels.

At best, they knew the general layout.

At worst, every corridor looked exactly the same.

After several minutes of silent walking, one of the men finally leaned closer and whispered,

"Um... Mister Oscar... are you sure we were supposed to take that left turn back there?"

Oscar immediately shot him a glare.

"Shhh." He lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. "Haven’t I already told you? Stop talking and just follow me. I snuck into the maintenance office yesterday and memorized the entire map."

The man glanced doubtfully down the seemingly endless corridor.

"...You memorized it?"

"I memorized the damn map."

The man exchanged an uncertain look with the others. None of them had much faith in Oscar’s memory.

Still, nobody argued. They silently fell back into line and continued forward.

The deeper they ventured into the tunnels, the more their footsteps were muffled by years of accumulated dust. The silence grew so complete that even the faint scrape of boots against concrete sounded unnaturally loud.

Then—

Without warning—

The faint echo of footsteps drifted through the passage.

Oscar froze instantly.

His hand shot upward, and every man behind him stopped at the same time.

With a series of quick gestures, he ushered everyone behind a stack of large maintenance crates tucked into a narrow alcove. Seven bodies squeezed into the cramped space just as another group rounded the distant corner.

Turning to the men, Oscar silently mouthed,

"Maintenance crew. Final inspection."

The group scarcely dared breathe.

They remained perfectly still until the footsteps gradually faded as the maintenance workers disappeared around another bend.

Only after the sound vanished completely did Oscar cautiously peek out, checking both directions. Once he confirmed every worker had gone, he gestured for everyone to move again, silently mouthing another warning.

"Go. And stop talking! Just follow me! I memorized the damn map!"

The men nodded silently.

One by one, they slipped back into the corridor and resumed their advance.

This time, however, they had barely gone another hundred feet before another sound echoed through the tunnel.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy footsteps.

Not behind them.

Ahead.

The rhythm was different. Not the relaxed pace of maintenance workers, but fast, purposeful strides, as though someone were running directly toward them.

Oscar halted so abruptly that the six men behind him nearly crashed into one another.

Everyone froze where they stood as the thunder of boots grew louder with every passing second.

Then, around the bend ahead—

A wall of armed Marchetti guards burst into view, charging straight toward them.

Oscar’s eyes flew wide.

’Oh, crap!’

’Who the hell figured this out? I was so careful!’

Without thinking, he spun around.

"Run! Turn around! Go!"

All seven of them bolted.

Their footsteps thundered through the tunnels as they sprinted back the way they had come, desperately trying to put distance between themselves and their pursuers.

Left.

Right.

Straight.

Another turn.

Oscar could already hear the guards rapidly closing the gap behind them.

’Faster!’

’Just one more turn!’

They rounded the next corner—

—and came to a dead stop.

Another squad of guards was already storming toward them from the opposite direction.

Oscar’s heart nearly stopped.

’...Shit.’

The group skidded to a halt.

The tunnel had become a trap.

Front.

Back.

Both exits blocked.

The two squads advanced from either end until Oscar and his men found themselves completely surrounded.

With nowhere left to run, Oscar stepped forward, glaring furiously at the guards hemming them in.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What the hell is the meaning of this? Who are you people to stop me?"

The soldiers exchanged glances before one captain stepped out from the front rank.

"Apologies, Mister Oscar. We’ve received credible intelligence that you intend to sabotage the second round of the Trials."

Another guard spoke, his voice cold and unwavering.

"We’ve been ordered to apprehend you and your accomplices."

Oscar’s jaw tightened.

’How?’

’How the hell did this leak? Only Jordan, Ariana, these six guys, and I knew about this!’

His thoughts raced, trying to pinpoint where everything had gone wrong and who had betrayed them, but there was no longer time to think.

Grinding his teeth, he turned toward the six men beside him, his voice ringing through the tunnel.

"Get ready! Fight through them! We’re getting out of here!"

Without another word, he hurled himself into the nearest line of guards.

His six companions charged after him.

The narrow passage erupted into chaos.

Concrete walls echoed with the sounds of fists colliding with flesh, boots slamming into ribs, and bodies crashing against the floor.

Oscar landed a heavy punch that sent one guard staggering backward before driving his shoulder into another. Beside him, his men fought desperately, knocking several opponents to the ground in the opening moments.

Unfortunately, desperation could carry them only so far.

Every guard they knocked down was replaced by two more.

The numerical advantage shifted almost immediately.

The guards pressed inward from both ends of the corridor, squeezing the seven intruders into an ever-tightening circle.

A crushing blow slammed into Oscar’s stomach, driving the breath from his lungs. Another cracked against the side of his jaw. Someone swept his legs out from under him, and he crashed hard onto the concrete.

Around him, his six companions fared no better. One after another, they were overwhelmed beneath the sheer weight of numbers.

Within moments, the fight was over.

Oscar lay sprawled across the cold concrete, one arm wrapped protectively around his aching ribs while his companions groaned nearby, each nursing bruises of their own.

Seeing no other option, he resorted to the last advantage he still possessed.

"You idiots!" he shouted between labored breaths. "How dare you hit me? I’m the Don’s son!"

What answered him was the lazy click of someone’s tongue echoing through the corridor.

Then came another sound.

Slow footsteps.

Unhurried.

Almost sleepy.

Each one carried the leisurely rhythm of someone strolling along a beach instead of arriving at the aftermath of a fight.

"You are the Don’s son..." a lazy voice drawled, "...and yet you’re doing something as shameful as sabotaging the Trials, hmm?"

Oscar stiffened instantly.

He would have recognized that voice even in his sleep.

His head snapped toward the sound.

"Nazario?!"

The guards silently stepped aside.

Nazario emerged between them with one hand lazily rubbing at his eye, looking as though someone had dragged him out of bed for this.

Despite the sleepy expression, a faint smirk lingered stubbornly at the corner of his mouth.

"If not me, then who, little brother?" he drawled. "What’s gotten into you? Couldn’t wait until you turned eighteen to compete, so you decided to bring a few friends down here and crash the party instead?"

Oscar’s blood boiled.

’You bastard... you’re still pretending you’re innocent?’

Ignoring the protests of his battered body, he forced himself back to his feet.

"Nazario, you bastard!" he shouted. "Stop pretending you’re some kind of hero! How the hell did you even know I was infiltrating the maze?"