Chapter 13 - A Mafia Boss Unleashed
The yacht’s mooring lines snapped as the powerful vessel began to pull away from the concrete pier.
Vanessa smiled a triumphant, demonic smile. “Goodbye, Luca.”
She pulled the trigger.
In that fraction of a second, I threw my entire weight backward, slamming my head directly into Vanessa’s nose.
CRACK!
The gunshot went wild, shattering the bridge window above us. Vanessa shrieked in agony, dropping the pistol as blood gushed from her broken nose.
At that exact moment, Luca leaped.
It was an impossible jump across ten feet of churning, black ocean water. He caught the stainless-steel railing of the yacht's aft deck with one hand, hauling his massive frame over the side with raw, terrifying strength.
Vincent Bellini stumbled out of the wheelhouse, raising his revolver. “Die, you bastard!”
Luca didn’t even draw his gun. He closed the distance in a blur of speed, catching Vincent’s wrist, twisting the bone until it snapped with a sickening crunch, and disarming the old Don in a single fluid motion.
He slammed Vincent onto the teak deck, his knee pinning the older man’s throat.
“This is for Michael Moretti,” Luca whispered.
With a single, devastating blow, Luca rendered Vincent Bellini permanently unconscious.
Vanessa crawled toward her fallen pistol on the rain-slicked deck, sobbing and screaming incoherently. “I'll kill you! I'll kill both of you!”
I stepped forward and kicked the silver gun clean off the deck, watching it vanish into the freezing black depths of Lake Michigan.
Vanessa looked up at me, trembling, beaten, and utterly stripped of her wealth, prestige, and arrogance.
“The coat was beautiful, Vanessa,” I said coldly. “And you were never worthy of the man who wore it.”
Marco and three harbor police tactical boats surrounded the drifting yacht, their searchlights illuminating the deck in brilliant, blinding white.
Luca walked over to me. He didn’t look at the defeated Bellinis. He didn’t look at the police boats.
He grabbed me by the waist, pulled me against his soaking wet chest, and buried his face in my neck. He was trembling—not from cold, not from exhaustion, but from the terrifying realization that he had almost lost me.
“I have you,” Luca breathed against my skin. “I have you, Claire. It’s over.”
May you like
I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, holding him tight as the rain washed the blood and soot away.
“It’s over, Luca,” I whispered. “Your father is at peace.”
