Chapter 10 - The Ghost’s ShadowMy world spun out from beneath my feet.
My mother.
She was sixty-two.
She had rheumatoid arthritis.
She spent her mornings watering geraniums on a quiet Boston street.
She didn't know who Luca Moretti was.
She thought I was managing a boutique hotel downtown.
“No,” I breathed.
The room tilted.
My vision narrowed into a dark tunnel.
“No, no, no...”
Luca’s arm wrapped around my shoulder.
He held me upright against his chest.
His voice was steady.
Unshakable.
“Look at me, Emma.”
I couldn't.
Tears blinded my eyes.
“Luca, my mother—”
“Look at me,” he commanded.
His fingers gently gripped my chin, lifting my face toward his.
His dark eyes were completely calm.
Like the eye of a hurricane.
“Your mother is not going to die,” Luca said.
“They’re at her house!” I cried.
“Boston is three states away,” Luca said.
He pulled his personal phone from his pocket.
He dialed a number with his thumb.
“Leo,” Luca spoke into the receiver.
“South Boston. 142 Elm Street.”
Luca paused.
“Two Bellini spotters outside the front porch. Neutralize them silently. Secure the woman inside.”
Luca listened for three seconds.
“Good. Call me when she’s in the safehouse.”
He hung up.
He looked back down at me.
“Leo runs my Boston logistics branch. He has twelve men six minutes away from your mother’s house.”
He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
His skin was rough against my face.
“She is safe, Emma. I swear on my mother’s soul.”
A heavy sob escaped my chest.
I leaned against his chest for one brief, desperate second.
The smell of gunsmoke and expensive cologne surrounded me.
He didn't push me away.
His arm tightened around my back.
Then he stepped back, turning toward Vanessa on the sofa.
Vanessa was watching us with eyes full of venom.
“You’re pathetic, Luca,” Vanessa hissed through her tears.
“A mafia Don clinging to a Boston scrub.”
Luca didn't raise his voice.
He looked at Marco.
“Tie her to the salon chair.”
“Luca, you can't do this!” Vanessa shrieked.
“My father will skin you alive!”
“Your father is currently choking on third-degree steam burns in a county hospital,” Luca replied coldly.
Marco pushed Vanessa down and wrapped zip-ties around her wrists.
Luca walked back toward the laptop on the desk.
He looked at Michael.
“How long until Matteo realizes the offshore transfer failed?”
Michael checked his tablet.
“Zurich bank servers generate a bounce error within twenty minutes.”
“So we have twenty minutes before he executes whatever backup plan he has,” Luca said.
“What is his backup plan?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
Michael pulled up an old property blueprint on the screen.
“The grain silos on 35th Street.”
He traced a red line across the screen.
“Matteo didn't just choose that location for a shootout.”
“What’s under the silos?” Luca asked.
Michael looked up, his face grim.
“The old city gas pipeline runs directly beneath the foundation.”
Silence settled over the cabin.
“If he detonates that line,” Michael whispered, “half the industrial district collapses into the river.”
Luca reached for the heavy tactical vest resting on the table.
He pulled it over his injured ribs without a groan.
“He wants a spectacle,” Luca said, strapping the Velcro tight.
“He wants the entire city to watch the Moretti family burn.”
Luca checked his watch.
“Marco. Take Michael and secure the perimeter around the silos.”
“And me?” I asked firmly.
Luca looked at me.
“You stay on this boat with two guards.”
“No,” I said.
Luca’s brow furrowed.
“Emma. This isn't an audit. This is an execution.”
“I know the silos,” I said, stepping closer to him.
“My father worked for the Chicago gas utility for twenty-five years before he died.”
Luca paused.
“I know where the master shutoff valve is located,” I continued.
“If you go in there with guns blazing and Matteo hits the detonator, you’ll all die.”
Luca stared at me.
For five long seconds, the only sound was the rain drumming against the yacht’s hull.
Then Luca reached out and handed me a spare magazine for the Glock.
“Stay behind me,” Luca said.
“If I fall, run.”
“You won't fall,” I said.
May you like
Luca looked at me, and for the first time, a genuine, soft smile touched his lips.
“Let's go end this, Emma.”
Related Stories
