Chapter 6 - A Safe Haven for the Boy Who Knew Too Much
Ten minutes later, Marco and I arrived at our discreet safehouse in Sandy Springs—a nondescript suburban home fortified with bulletproof glass and manned by six heavily armed Moretti enforcers.
Sitting on a sofa in the living room was the ten-year-old boy from the park. He had a bandage wrapped around his forearm where a bullet had grazed him, and he was clutching a warm cup of hot chocolate like it was gold.
When the front door opened and I walked into the room, the boy flinched, instinctively pulling his knees to his chest.
I took off my heavy overcoat, handed it to Marco, and walked across the room with slow, deliberate steps. I knelt down in front of the boy so we were at eye level.
“What’s your name, son?” I asked gently.
“Leo,” the boy whispered, his voice trembling. “Leo Miller.”
“Leo,” I repeated softly. “You saved my daughter’s life today.”
Leo wiped his nose with the back of his dirty sleeve. “I didn't want to get in trouble, Mr. Moretti. But I saw that lady dropping those little glass bottles in the trash behind your mansion. When I looked inside the box, there were medical labels with your daughter’s name on them. My little sister passed away from an illness three years ago... I couldn't just watch another kid get hurt.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. The hardened killers standing guard around the perimeter looked away, moved by the boy’s raw bravery.
“Where are your parents, Leo?”
“They’re gone,” Leo said quietly, looking down at his worn shoes. “Foster care split me up from my sister before she got sick. I’ve been on the streets for a year.”
I reached out and placed a firm, reassuring hand on his small shoulder.
“You’re not on the streets anymore, Leo,” I said, my voice unwavering. “As long as Vincent Moretti breathes, you will never go hungry, you will never sleep in the cold, and no one in this city will ever touch a hair on your head again. You have my word as a father.”
Tears welled up in Leo’s eyes, and for the first time, he let out a choked sob of relief.
I turned back to Marco. “Get Julian over here immediately to patch up Leo’s arm. Then put four top-tier men on him around the clock. If a single fly buzzes near this house without clearance, shoot it down.”
“You got it, Vincent,” Marco replied. “What’s our next move with Elena?”
May you like
I stood up, adjusting the gold cufflinks on my sleeves. My eyes were cold as slate.
“Antonio Falcone thinks he’s playing chess with me,” I muttered. “He thinks Elena has me blinded by love while they poison my flesh and blood. Tomorrow morning, we give them exactly what they want to see... right before we snap the trap shut.”
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