Chapter 6 - Into the Shadows
The sparks from the rifle round hit the gas pocket instantly.
A brilliant flash of orange flame engulfed the upper ceiling.
The shockwave blew the iron hatch off its hinges with a tremendous screech of tearing metal.
Cool, clean night air rushed into the subterranean tomb.
“Up! Move!” Daniel bellowed.
Daniel pushed me up the rungs of the iron ladder.
The metal rungs scorched my palms, but I didn't let go.
I scrambled out of the smoking manhole into the pouring rain.
We were in an overgrown alleyway between two abandoned industrial warehouses.
A second later, Daniel hauled Luca’s battered body out of the shaft.
Luca collapsed onto the wet asphalt.
He was coughing violently, his lungs expelling gray soot and toxic residue.
I knelt in the freezing mud beside him.
His wound had completely reopened.
A steady stream of bright red blood was washing away in the rain.
“We need to stop this bleeding right now or he won't survive the next thirty minutes,” I told Daniel.
Daniel stripped off his Kevlar tactical vest and pulled a field trauma kit from the side pouch.
He handed me a packet of celox clotting powder and heavy pressure bandages.
“Pack it in,” Daniel said, his voice grim.
I tore the packet open with my teeth.
I poured the granular powder directly into the torn flesh of Luca’s side.
A terrible sizzle accompanied the chemical reaction.
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard a vein looked ready to rupture on his forehead.
He didn't scream.
He simply grabbed my wrist and squeezed until my bones creaked.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks.
“Don't apologize,” he grunted through his teeth.
“Just finish it.”
I wrapped the elastic pressure bandage around his torso three times, pulling it as tight as my muscles allowed.
The bleeding slowed to a dark trickle.
Daniel stood guard at the mouth of the alley, his shotgun resting under his trench coat.
“Boss, an unmarked black SUV just turned the corner three blocks away.”
“Bellini’s cleanup crew?” Luca asked, struggling to his feet.
“No,” Daniel replied, lowering his weapon slightly.
“The headlights flashed three times. Green running lights.”
Luca exhaled a long breath.
“Matteo.”
I looked up.
“Who is Matteo?”
“Uncle Matteo,” Luca answered.
“My father’s consigliere. The only man in the Commission who refused to bend the knee to Vincent Bellini.”
The black SUV pulled into the narrow alleyway with a quiet hum of its engine.
The passenger door opened.
An elderly man with slicked-back silver hair and an immaculate wool coat stepped out into the rain.
He held a large black umbrella.
He took one look at Luca’s bloodstained condition and shook his head.
“You look like hell, nephew.”
Luca leaned against the brick wall.
“I'm not your nephew, Matteo.”
Matteo stopped walking.
The umbrella tilted slightly.
His sharp gray eyes moved from Luca to the bloody papers clutched in my hand.
Then his gaze locked onto my face.
Matteo didn't speak for five long seconds.
The rain hammered against the taut fabric of his umbrella.
“You have your mother’s eyes, girl,” Matteo said softly.
My jaw dropped.
“You knew?”
Matteo sighed, a heavy, tired sound that seemed to carry thirty-five years of guilt.
“I held you when you were six months old, Emma.”
“Your father, Thomas, was my best friend.”
Luca took a threatening step toward the old man.
“You knew they swapped me?”
“I didn't know until it was too late,” Matteo replied.
He looked at Luca without fear.
“Antonio Moretti gave the order in secret.”
“By the time I found the records at St. Catherine’s, the real heir was in a cold crypt, and you were sleeping in a silver crib.”
“Why didn't you kill Vincent back then?” Luca snarled.
“Because Vincent had the Commission in his pocket!”
Matteo raised his voice for the first time.
“If I had spoken the truth thirty-five years ago, the five families would have executed you as an impostor, butchered Emma's parents to erase the loose ends, and handed the entire Midwest to the Bellinis on a silver platter!”
Matteo stepped closer and put a weathered hand on Luca’s soaked shoulder.
“I kept quiet to keep both of you alive.”
“I waited for the day you were strong enough to take the head off the snake yourself.”
Luca looked down at the old consigliere’s hand.
“The meeting is at midnight?”
“At the Drake Hotel ballroom,” Matteo confirmed.
“Every Don in the Midwest is already there.”
“Vincent has presented a forged testament claiming Antonio left the entire territory to Vanessa.”
Matteo’s expression turned grim.
“They are voting on the transition in forty-five minutes.”
Luca turned to me.
“Give me the watch, Emma.”
I reached into my pocket and handed him the gold heirloom.
Luca passed it to Matteo.
“Take this to the ballroom. Place it on the center table.”
Matteo looked at the watch.
“A broken watch won't stop twenty capos from voting, Luca.”
“It’s not broken,” I said firmly.
Matteo looked at me.
“Open the inner balance wheel casing,” I told him.
“There is an engraved micro-film strip behind the ruby bearing.”
Matteo’s eyes widened.
“Lucia’s handwriting?”
“Her signed confession,” I said.
“Dated the night she died.”
“She knew Vincent was poisoning her tea.”
Luca went completely rigid.
“What did you say?”
I looked at my brother.
“Your mother didn't die of cancer, Luca.”
“The lab report from Room 317 was wrapped around a toxicology screen.”
“Vanessa’s family has been murdering your family piece by piece for three decades.”
A terrifying calm settled over Luca Moretti.
The pain in his face vanished.
The exhaustion in his limbs disappeared.
He looked like an executioner who had just received his divine mandate.
He climbed into the back of the SUV.
“Daniel.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Get the heavy artillery from Matteo's trunk.”
May you like
Luca looked out the window at the glittering skyline of Chicago in the distance.
“Tonight, we end the Bellini bloodline.”
