Chapter 8 - THE BROKEN ROSARY
The fog seemed to thicken around us, suffocating the air in the warehouse lot.
Sabrina stood ten feet away, the barrel of her silver pistol pressed sickeningly close to the pale blue blanket wrapped around the baby.
Matteo’s son was incredibly quiet. Too quiet.
Luca took a desperate half-step forward. “Sabrina. Let the boy go. You want me. You want the territory. Take it. Just put the gun down.”
“Oh, Luca,” Sabrina sighed, adjusting the baby on her hip with a chilling nonchalance. “You still don't get it. I don't want your territory anymore. I just want to watch Catherine lose everything. The way I did when you burned this building down.”
She looked at her sister. The hatred in Sabrina’s eyes was absolute.
“You wear his ring,” Sabrina spat at Catherine. “But you let the man who killed him share your bed for twenty years. You’re a traitor, Catherine.”
Catherine didn't flinch. She kept her right hand raised, the silver wolf ring gleaming.
“I did what I had to do to survive, Sabrina,” Catherine said softly. “You were just a baby when the fire happened. You don't know the truth about our father.”
Sabrina’s grip on the gun tightened. “Don't talk about him!”
“Our father was a monster!” Catherine yelled, her stoic composure finally breaking. “He didn't die because Luca attacked him. He died because he set the fire himself! He was trying to burn the evidence of his own embezzling before the commission found out. He locked us in, Sabrina! Luca’s men pulled you out of the window!”
Silence slammed into the courtyard.
Sabrina froze. The men standing around her exchanged nervous glances.
“You’re lying,” Sabrina whispered, shaking her head.
“Why do you think Luca took me in?” Catherine cried, tears finally spilling down her face. “He felt guilty that his men couldn't save our mother. Luca didn't start the fire. He tried to put it out.”
I looked at Luca. He was staring at the ground, the weight of a twenty-two-year-old secret bearing down on him. He had taken the blame to protect Catherine from knowing her own father had tried to kill her.
Sabrina looked at the men around her. They were lowering their guns, the myth of their martyred boss crumbling before their eyes.
“Shut up!” Sabrina screamed hysterically. She pressed the gun harder against the blue blanket. “It’s a lie! You’re just trying to save the brat!”
“Sabrina, please,” I spoke up, my voice trembling. I stepped forward, holding out the pastel diaper bag. “The baby needs to eat. Please, just let me give him a bottle.”
Sabrina snapped her gaze to me. “Stay back, maid!”
“He’s so quiet,” I pleaded, taking another step. “Please, just let me check on him.”
Sabrina glared at me. Then she looked down at the bundle in her arms.
For a fraction of a second, she was distracted.
I didn't think. I acted.
I didn't reach into the diaper bag for a bottle.
I reached into the front pocket and pulled out the heavy, solid wood and metal rosary I had found on my mother’s hospital tray earlier that night.
With all my strength, I threw the heavy rosary directly at Sabrina’s face.
The metal cross struck her hard across the cheekbone.
Sabrina shrieked in pain and surprise, stumbling backward. Her arms opened, and the blue blanket tumbled toward the cold concrete floor.
Luca moved with a speed that defied human reflexes.
He dove across the pavement, sliding on his knees, and caught the blue bundle just inches before it hit the ground.
Sabrina recovered instantly. She raised her gun, aiming it wildly at Luca’s head.
BANG.
But it wasn't Sabrina’s gun that fired.
Carlo, the lead Rossi gunman, stood with his rifle smoking.
Sabrina gasped, the silver pistol dropping from her hand. She looked down at the blossoming red stain on her ruined silk gown.
She collapsed onto the wet pavement, her eyes wide with shock.
Carlo lowered his rifle and looked at Catherine.
“The Rossi men serve the ring,” Carlo said gruffly. “And we don't shoot babies.”
Catherine let out a massive, shuddering breath. She ran to Luca, dropping to her knees beside him on the wet concrete.
Luca was sitting up, cradling the blue blanket against his chest. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“I’ve got him, Cath,” Luca wept, burying his face in the blue fabric. “I’ve got our boy. He’s safe.”
I collapsed onto the ground, my whole body shaking from the adrenaline.
Catherine reached out and pulled back the fold of the pale blue hospital blanket to look at her grandson’s face.
But as the fabric pulled away, Catherine gasped.
Luca looked down.
There was no baby in his arms.
Wrapped inside the hospital blanket was a heavy, tightly bound sack of flour, roughly the weight of a newborn.
Sabrina, bleeding on the ground ten feet away, let out a wet, rattling laugh.
“Answer one,” Sabrina choked out, blood spilling from her lips. “Open two. Did you really think… I would bring him to a gunfight?”
Luca dropped the sack of flour, his face twisting in absolute horror.
“Where is he?!” Luca roared, crawling toward Sabrina and grabbing her by the collar. “Where is my grandson?!”
Sabrina smiled, her eyes losing focus as the life drained out of her.
“He’s exactly where I left him,” Sabrina whispered.
She reached her bloody hand into her pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object. She dropped it onto the concrete.
It was a rusted, iron skeleton key.
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“He’s locked in the basement,” Sabrina breathed her final words. “And the water is rising.”
TITLE: THE RUSTED KEY
