“Cover your ears,” he whispered.

I pressed my hands to my ears and closed my eyes.

The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space.

The muzzle flash lit up the tunnel for a fraction of a second, casting a brilliant, blinding white light.

A scream echoed from the stairs, followed by the heavy sound of a body tumbling down the stone steps.

The flashlight dropped, rolling into the water and flickering out.

“Move,” Vincent said, grabbing my hand again.

We began to run through the shallow water.

The splashing of our feet seemed incredibly loud, echoing off the arched brick ceiling.

Behind us, more lights appeared at the top of the stairs.

Several beams of light danced across the wet walls, searching for us.

“Stop them!” someone yelled. “Don Corrado wants the woman alive, but kill Moretti!”

A rapid succession of soft pops sounded behind us.

Bullets chipped the brickwork near my head, showering us with sharp fragments of stone and mortar.

Vincent did not fire back.

He kept pushing me forward, his large frame shielding me from behind.

“Almost there,” he muttered.