Chapter 7 - The Man With The Match
Michael’s eyes widened as he stared at the photograph in Lucy’s trembling hand. The gun wavered for a split second.
That was all the security chief needed.
A deafening crack echoed through the small concrete room. Michael screamed, dropping the gun as blood bloomed across his shoulder. He stumbled backward, clutching his arm, and fell hard against the wooden door.
Gabriel didn’t hesitate. He launched himself forward, grabbing Michael by the lapels of his suit and slamming him against the wall.
“Don’t shoot him again!” Gabriel roared at the chief. “I want him alive. I want him to rot.”
I rushed forward and threw my arms around Lucy. She was rigid, trembling violently, but as I pulled her close, she buried her face in my shoulder and broke down into heavy, ragged sobs. Buddy pressed his warm body against our legs, whining softly.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmured, stroking her tangled hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Gabriel turned from his bleeding brother and rushed to us. He wrapped his massive arms around both me and Lucy, burying his face in his daughter’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.”
“He told me Mommy was bad,” Lucy cried into his chest. “He told me if I tried to run, the police would arrest you because you’re a bad man.”
Gabriel closed his eyes, the guilt washing over his face. He had built an empire of fear, and his own brother had used that reputation to manipulate an eleven-year-old child.
“Chief,” Gabriel said, his voice cold and commanding. “Call the police. Tell them to bring an ambulance for Michael. And contact my lawyers.”
“Sir,” the chief said, looking at his phone. “We have a problem.”
Gabriel looked up. “What?”
“Vanessa. When she left the house, she didn’t just run. She made a phone call.” The chief held up his screen. “To Victor.”
Gabriel’s face drained of color.
Victor was Gabriel’s second-in-command. A ruthless, ambitious man who had been pushing Gabriel to expand their illegal operations—operations Gabriel had been scaling back since Lucy’s “death.”
“Victor has been waiting for an excuse to overthrow you, sir,” the chief warned. “If Vanessa told him Michael is injured and you’re distracted…”
Right on cue, heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs above us.
Three men in dark suits stepped down into the cellar. They weren’t police. They were Victor’s enforcers, holding automatic weapons.
And standing behind them, clutching a silver rosary and looking terrified, was Vanessa.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Vanessa whimpered. “But Michael promised me half the estate if I kept quiet. Victor promised me the whole thing if I helped him get rid of you.”
Victor stepped forward. He had a long, jagged scar across his right hand. He looked at Michael bleeding on the floor, then at Lucy.
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“Well,” Victor smiled, raising his gun. “It looks like the Santoro family curse is about to claim the rest of you.”
TITLE: The Final Debt
