Chapter 8 - The Dead Man’s Switch
“Look at her wrist!”
Matteo’s voice echoed sharply against the iron gates of the facility.
Luca’s eyes instantly snapped to Vanessa’s hands.
She was holding the detonator, yes. But her thumb wasn’t pressing down on a button.
She was holding it sideways.
It wasn’t a remote detonator. It was a garage door opener she had painted black.
Vanessa realized the bluff was called.
Her face twisted in rage.
“Shoot him!” she screamed to the guard.
Luca moved faster than thought.
He drew his weapon from the small of his back and fired two shots. The guard with the rifle went down instantly.
The second guard scrambled out of the passenger side, aiming at Luca.
But before he could fire, Matteo threw his body weight backward, slamming his head into Vanessa’s face.
She shrieked, stumbling backward and dropping the fake detonator.
Matteo tripped over his own feet, falling hard onto the asphalt, rolling away from the van.
I threw my door open and ran.
“Matteo!”
Gunfire erupted. The second guard was shooting at Luca, pinning him behind the engine block of our sedan.
I didn’t have a gun. I just had speed.
I sprinted across the dark asphalt, grabbed the collar of Matteo’s jacket, and dragged him behind the heavy steel tires of the transport van.
“Are you hurt?” I gasped, checking him over.
“I’m okay,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “Claire, you came back.”
“I’m never leaving you behind,” I promised, pulling a small pocket knife from my apron and slicing through his zip-ties.
Suddenly, the gunfire stopped.
I peeked around the tire.
Luca was walking slowly toward the van.
The second guard was on the ground, groaning, holding his leg.
Vanessa was sitting on the pavement, clutching her bleeding nose. The elegant, untouchable mafia princess looked utterly pathetic.
Luca stood over her.
He didn’t point his gun at her. He simply looked down with a disgust so profound it seemed to crush her.
“You came into my home,” Luca said quietly. “You ate at my table. You tried to break my son.”
“I’ll destroy you, Luca,” she spat, blood staining her teeth. “My family will go to war. You can’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Luca said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He hit play on an audio recording.
It was Senator Sterling’s voice, crisp and clear.
“…Vanessa Bellini orchestrated the hit on Victoria Moretti. She used the Bellini family funds without her father’s permission to hire the mechanic. Her father didn’t want the ports. She did.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened in sheer horror.
“Your father is an old-school man, Vanessa,” Luca said softly. “He doesn’t forgive theft. And he certainly doesn’t forgive his daughter starting a war behind his back.”
Luca tossed the phone onto her lap.
“I sent that recording to your father ten minutes ago. He told me he no longer has a daughter.”
Vanessa began to sob.
Not fake, manipulative tears. Real, primal terror.
Without her family’s backing, she was nothing. She was a target.
In the distance, the wail of police sirens cut through the night.
Luca had orchestrated the entire thing. The police would find the guards, the illegal transport van, and a disgraced mob daughter with no protection.
Luca turned his back on her.
He walked around the van.
When he saw Matteo and me sitting on the ground, his rigid posture finally broke.
He dropped to his knees.
He didn’t care about the dirt or the blood. He pulled Matteo into a crushing embrace, burying his face in his son’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Luca whispered fiercely. “I am so sorry, Matteo. I should have seen it. I should have protected you.”
Matteo hugged his father back tightly.
“It’s okay, Dad. We beat her.”
Luca pulled back, resting his hands on Matteo’s shoulders.
“You didn’t stutter,” Luca smiled, his eyes shining with tears.
Matteo looked over at me.
“Claire told me to just breathe.”
Luca slowly turned to look at me.
His dark eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t name.
Gratitude. Exhaustion. And something deeper.
May you like
He reached out his hand.
“Let’s go home, Claire.”
