Chapter 2 - The Photograph That Rewrote The Past

I didn’t aim for Harris’s arm. I aimed directly for his bleeding chest.

Harris flinched, instinctively raising his free hand to protect his wound.

In that split second, the glass shifted away from Leo’s throat.

Luca didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance like a striking snake, grabbing Harris’s wrist and snapping it backward with a sickening crunch.

Harris screamed, dropping the glass.

I yanked Leo out of the way, shielding his body with mine as we crashed to the Persian rug.

Luca hit Harris with a right hook so devastating it lifted the doctor off his feet. Harris slammed into the mahogany bookshelf and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Luca stood over him, his chest heaving, his fists covered in the doctor’s blood.

“Are you hurt?” Luca spun around, dropping to his knees beside us.

“I’m okay,” I gasped.

Leo was shaking violently, crying into my shoulder.

Luca gathered us both into his massive arms, burying his face in Leo’s hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, we stayed like that on the floor of the library. A fractured, chaotic attempt at a family, clinging to each other in the aftermath of violence.

But the nightmare wasn’t over.

Marco burst into the library, assault rifle raised. He lowered it when he saw Harris unconscious on the floor.

“Boss, the perimeter is secure, but the police are swarming the front gates,” Marco reported quickly. “They want to search the premises for Victor and Vanessa. And they have a warrant for your arrest regarding Harris’s ‘murder.’”

“Harris is alive,” I said, gesturing to the bleeding man.

“It won’t matter,” Luca said grimly, standing up and pulling me and Leo to our feet. “Victor owns half the precinct. If the cops take me in, Victor’s men will kill me in a holding cell. And they’ll take Leo.”

“What do we do?” I asked, panic rising again.

Luca looked at Marco. “The tunnels.”

Marco nodded. “The helicopter is waiting at the secondary extraction point.”

Luca turned to me. He took my face in his hands.

“Emma, listen to me very carefully. I need you to take Leo. Marco will escort you through the old bootlegging tunnels under the wine cellar. They lead out to the river. Get on the helicopter and fly to the safe house in upstate New York.”

“What about you?” I demanded.

“I’m going to walk out the front door and surrender to the police.”

“No!” I grabbed his lapels. “You just said they’ll kill you!”

“It’s a distraction,” Luca said softly, his thumbs brushing tears from my cheeks. “If they think they have me, they’ll stop looking for the boy. I’ll let my lawyers deal with the cops. You just keep my son safe.”

Leo grabbed Luca’s leg. “Don’t go, Dad! Please!”

Luca knelt down and pulled a heavy, gold signet ring off his finger. The Moretti family crest.

He pressed it into Leo’s small hand.

“Hold on to this for me, Leo,” Luca smiled bravely. “I promise I will come back for it. Real fathers don’t break their promises.”

He kissed the boy’s forehead, then stood up and looked at Marco.

“Protect them with your life, Marco.”

“On my honor, Boss.”

Luca gave me one last, lingering look—a look so full of unspoken emotion it made my heart ache. Then, he turned and walked out of the library, heading straight toward the flashing red and blue lights outside.

Marco led us down into the dark, damp wine cellar. He pushed a massive oak wine rack aside, revealing a heavy iron door.

We entered the tunnels. It was pitch black, smelling of earth and old secrets. Marco used a flashlight to guide us. I held Leo’s hand so tightly my knuckles ached.

We walked for twenty minutes in silence.

Finally, the tunnel began to incline. Marco pushed open a rusted grate, and we climbed out into the cool night air.

We were standing in an abandoned rail yard near the river.

A black helicopter sat on the concrete pad, its rotors spinning lazily.

“Go, go!” Marco ushered us forward.

I ran toward the helicopter, ducking under the wind of the blades. I lifted Leo into the back seat and climbed in after him.

Marco climbed into the front seat next to the pilot.

“Take off!” Marco yelled over the headset.

The helicopter lifted off the ground. I strapped Leo in and hugged him tight.

We were safe.

I looked out the window at the receding skyline of Chicago, praying Luca was surviving his end of the bargain.

Suddenly, the pilot’s voice crackled over the headset.