Chapter 8 - THE BRACELET
The cold metal of the rifle barrel burned against Emily’s temple.
“Scream,” Rafe hissed again, his grip on her hair painfully tight.
Emily clamped her jaw shut. She looked down at Leo, who was frozen in the grass, his large, terrified eyes welling with tears.
“Run, Leo!” Emily choked out.
Rafe laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. “He’s not going anywhere.”
He tightened his grip, yanking Emily backward toward the stone wall of the winery.
“Santino!” Rafe roared into the night. “I have the girl! And I have your heir! Come out here and die like a man, or I blow her head off right now!”
Silence answered him. Only the wind rustling through the overgrown grapevines.
“Ten seconds, Ferrara!” Rafe shouted. “Ten!”
Emily’s mind raced. She couldn't let Santino surrender. If he did, Rafe would kill them all. She had to do something.
She felt her hand brush against her pocket. Inside was a thin, cheap silver bracelet she wore every day—a matching piece she had bought with Maya at a street fair ten years ago.
“Nine!”
Emily looked at Leo. The boy was trembling violently.
She carefully slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled the bracelet out. She let it drop onto the grass, right in front of Leo.
Leo looked down at the shiny silver metal catching the moonlight.
“Eight!”
Emily caught Leo’s eye. She gave him a tiny, desperate nod. Stay down. Be quiet.
Leo reached out and picked up the bracelet. He clutched it to his chest, closing his eyes tightly.
“Seven!”
Suddenly, a shadow moved near the iron grate Emily had escaped through.
Santino emerged. He wasn't limping anymore. Adrenaline and pure, unadulterated rage fueled his movements. He walked with a terrifying, heavy precision, his gun raised and locked onto Rafe’s head.
“Let her go, Rafe,” Santino said, his voice a low, lethal rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground.
“Drop the gun, Boss,” Rafe sneered, pressing the rifle harder against Emily’s head. “Or her brains paint the grass.”
Santino stopped ten feet away. His eyes flicked to Emily, then to Leo hiding in the grass, then back to Rafe.
“You think you’ve won?” Santino asked quietly.
“I have the gun, and I have the hostages,” Rafe smiled. “Yeah. I’ve won.”
“You’re thinking too small, Rafe,” Santino said. “You’ve spent three years trying to steal my throne. But you forgot how I built it.”
Santino reached into his jacket with his free hand and pulled out his phone. He tossed it into the grass at Rafe’s feet.
“Check your messages,” Santino commanded.
Rafe frowned. Keeping the rifle pressed to Emily, he nudged the phone with his boot. The screen lit up.
It was an email. Sent to the heads of the Five Families in New York. Attached were the ledgers Emily had found in Maya’s journal—the proof that Rafe had been skimming from the Cartel and blaming the Italians.
Rafe’s face drained of color.
“They know,” Santino said softly. “The New York Commission knows you stole from them. The Cartel knows you stole from them. If you pull that trigger, you are a dead man. If you let her go and run right now, you might make it to Canada before they skin you alive.”
Rafe’s hand shook. His confidence shattered in a single second.
He looked at the phone, then at Santino.
In that fraction of a second of hesitation, Emily moved.
She remembered the pool. She remembered the lifeguard training.
She threw her weight backward, slamming her elbow brutally into Rafe’s ribs. As he gasped, she twisted, hooking her arm sharply under his jaw and throwing her body weight forward.
Rafe stumbled, the rifle firing wildly into the sky.
Emily broke free, diving toward Leo.
Before Rafe could recover and aim again, three gunshots rang out in rapid succession.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Rafe Lombardi stood completely still for a moment. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed into the tall grass, dead before he hit the ground.
Santino lowered his smoking gun. He stood heavily, breathing hard, the adrenaline slowly leaving his battered legs.
He looked at Emily, who was clutching Leo tightly to her chest in the grass.
Santino dropped the gun and fell to his knees beside them.
May you like
He wrapped his massive arms around both of them, pulling them against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” Santino whispered, burying his face in Emily’s hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
