Chapter 12 - [THE FINAL PROMISE]
“We are not losing anyone else,” Luca roared.
He was already moving, grabbing his jacket and his weapon. “Eleanor, stay here with Katie. Lock the doors.”
“Luca, let me call my men,” Eleanor begged, pulling out a burner phone. “I didn’t survive Europe alone. I have people in Chicago.”
“Do it,” Luca snapped.
He grabbed my hand. “We’re getting her back. I swear to God, Emma.”
We flew down the elevator and into the armored SUV. The drive to my mother’s neighborhood was a blur of adrenaline and flashing streetlights.
We pulled onto her street.
The house was dark. The front door was wide open.
Luca didn’t bother with stealth. He kicked the door wide open, his gun raised, sweeping the room.
“Mom!” I screamed, running in right behind him.
The living room was destroyed. Furniture overturned.
But sitting calmly in the center of the room, tied to a wooden dining chair, was my mother.
Standing behind her were two men in dark suits.
And sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigar, was Don Bellini. Vanessa’s father.
“Ah, Luca,” Bellini smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”
Luca didn’t lower his gun. “Let her go, Bellini. Your daughter is exiled, Richard is rotting in a cell. It’s over.”
“It’s not over until I have the routing numbers to the Geneva accounts,” Bellini said calmly. He tapped the ash from his cigar. “That money belongs to my family. Your father stole it twenty years ago.”
“It’s blood money,” my mother spat, her head held high despite the ropes. “You earned it by trafficking girls like my daughters. Thomas made sure you’d never touch it.”
Bellini sighed, nodding to one of his men. The man racked the slide of his pistol and pressed it to my mother’s head.
“The numbers, Mrs. Sullivan. Or your daughter watches you die.”
“Don’t you dare tell him!” I yelled.
Luca’s finger tightened on the trigger. But it was two against one. If he shot, my mother died.
“I don’t know the numbers,” my mother said calmly. “I really don’t.”
“Liar,” Bellini sneered.
“She’s not lying,” a cold, feminine voice rang out from the front door.
Everyone froze.
Eleanor Moretti stepped into the doorway. Behind her stood four massive, heavily armed men in tactical gear.
Bellini’s jaw dropped. “Eleanor. You’re dead.”
“I’m very much alive, Don,” Eleanor said smoothly. “And I’m the one who opened those accounts.”
She walked into the room, utterly fearless.
“The money isn’t there anymore, Bellini. I transferred it this morning. I donated every single bloody dime to a foundation for trafficked women. Under your daughter’s name. The press release goes out in ten minutes.”
Bellini turned purple. “You bitch!”
He reached inside his jacket for a weapon.
Luca didn’t hesitate. He fired a single shot.
The gun blasted from Bellini’s hand, shattering his wrist. The crime boss screamed, collapsing onto the sofa.
Eleanor’s men swarmed the room, instantly disarming Bellini’s guards and forcing them to the floor.
I rushed forward, frantically untying my mother.
“Mom, Mom, are you okay?” I sobbed, pulling her into a desperate hug.
“I’m fine, Emma. I’m fine,” she soothed, kissing my hair.
She looked over my shoulder at Eleanor.
The two older women stared at each other. Twenty years of secrets, of shared sacrifice, hung in the air.
“Thank you, Helen,” Eleanor said softly. “For protecting my son when I couldn’t.”
My mother nodded. “Thank you for coming back for him, Eleanor.”
The sirens wailed in the distance. Eleanor’s men dragged Bellini and his guards out to the driveway to wait for the police.
The house was finally quiet.
Luca holstered his weapon. He looked exhausted, covered in a fine layer of dust and blood, but as he looked at me, his eyes were incredibly soft.
He walked over to us. My mother stood up and gently placed my hand into his.
“Take care of her, Luca,” my mother said firmly. “No more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” Luca promised.
He pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of rain and expensive cologne.
The nightmare was finally over. The ghosts of the past were laid to rest.
Luca pulled back slightly, looking down at the silver swallow bracelet shining on my wrist.
“So,” he whispered, a small, genuine smile breaking across his face. “Are you ready for that proper date now?”
May you like
I laughed, wiping away a tear. “I think I am.”
He kissed me, right there in the ruined living room. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I belonged. Safe. Loved. And fiercely protected.
