Chapter 6
"Throw it up here," Arthur commanded, the silencer of his weapon glinting in the faint moonlight bleeding through the broken roof.
I stood frozen at the bottom of the drained concrete pool, clutching the small metal box to my chest.
"How did you know I was here?" I asked, my voice echoing slightly in the hollow basin.
Arthur chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "Vanessa is a terrible liar. She always has been. Did you really think she suddenly grew a conscience?"
My stomach plummeted. Vanessa hadn't distracted him. She had sent me out here like a hunting dog to retrieve the evidence so Arthur wouldn't have to get his hands dirty.
"You're a monster," I said.
"I'm a survivor," Arthur corrected. "Teresa belonged to me. The Morettis stole her. They stole my life. I'm just taking it back. Now, throw the box up here, Hannah, or I’ll bury you under these tiles."
I looked around frantically. The metal ladder was ten feet away, but he was standing directly over it.
"If you shoot me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "Luca will hear it."
"It's suppressed," Arthur said boredly. "And besides, Luca is currently tied to a chair in his own dining room. My men have secured the house. The engagement guests are quite cooperative when faced with automatic weapons."
A surge of panic hit me. Teresa was in there.
"Now," Arthur snapped, raising the gun. "The box."
I took a deep breath.
I threw the metal box as hard as I could—not up toward him, but across the pool, aiming for the deep end wall.
It smashed against the concrete, bursting open. The white leather shoe and the gold watch clattered into the darkness.
Arthur cursed viciously. "You stupid little bitch!"
He took his eyes off me for one second to track where the items fell.
That was all I needed.
I sprinted toward the shallow end of the pool, scrambling up the gentle incline. My shoes slipped on the damp, mossy concrete, but I threw myself forward, grabbing the edge and pulling myself up onto the tiles.
Arthur fired.
The bullet struck the tile inches from my hand, sending a spray of sharp ceramic shards into my cheek. I cried out, but didn't stop moving.
I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the heavy wooden door.
"Stop!" Arthur yelled, his heavy footsteps echoing as he ran around the perimeter of the pool.
I burst through the door into the freezing night air, slamming it shut behind me. I didn't bother trying to lock it. I just ran.
I sprinted through the overgrown maze of hedgerows, my heart pounding in my ears.
The mansion loomed ahead, its windows blazing with light. But Arthur’s men were inside. I couldn't just walk through the front door.
I needed a weapon. I needed a phone. I needed help.
I ducked behind a massive stone fountain near the patio, gasping for air. Blood was trickling down my cheek from the ceramic shrapnel.
Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind.
I thrashed violently, driving my elbow backward.
"Hannah, stop! It's me!"
The voice was deep, frantic.
I stopped struggling.
It was Luca.
He spun me around, pressing a finger to his lips. His tuxedo jacket was gone, his white shirt was torn at the collar, and he had a dark bruise swelling on his left cheekbone.
"Arthur said you were tied up," I whispered, tears of relief springing to my eyes.
"I'm a Moretti," Luca breathed, his eyes scanning the darkness. "We don't tie easily. I took out the guard he left in the hallway and got out through the study window. Where is Arthur?"
"In the pool house," I whispered rapidly. "Luca, he killed your sister. He admitted it. He dropped his watch in the pool the day it happened. I found it, but he chased me out."
Luca’s jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth would shatter. The pain in his eyes was absolute.
"My mother..." he started.
"She's innocent," I said, grabbing his arm. "She didn't push her. Arthur was obsessed with her. He caused the accident."
Luca closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the truth wash over him. When he opened them, the hollow look was gone. It was replaced by a terrifying, focused rage.
"He has my mother in the dining room," Luca said. "He has three men with rifles holding the guests hostage. They're waiting for Arthur to come back with the contract."
"What do we do?" I asked.
Luca looked down at me. He reached out and gently wiped the blood from my cheek with his thumb.
"You leave," he said softly. "You run to the front gates, you climb the fence, and you go home to your mother."
"I'm not leaving Teresa."
"Hannah, this is my family's war. You don't belong in it."
"My mother took fifty thousand dollars to cover up your sister's murder," I said fiercely. "I am in it. I'm not running away."
May you like
Luca stared at me. For a moment, the mafia boss looked completely unarmed.
"Okay," he finally whispered. He reached down and pulled a sleek black handgun from his waistband. "Then we take my house back."
