Chapter 10 - The Falling Gun
Click.
The hollow, metallic click echoed like a bomb in the vast, silent warehouse.
Jenna froze, staring at the polished silver handgun in her grip.
Dominic Bellini didn't flinch. He didn't even look surprised. He slowly lowered his own revolver and let out a dry, cruel laugh that scraped against the concrete walls.
"You really thought I’d hand a loaded weapon to a volatile, emotional little girl?" Dominic sneered, his eyes filled with absolute contempt. "You aren't a boss, Jenna. You're a pawn. Just like your father. Just like your aunts."
Jenna stared at the useless gun, her hands shaking violently. The realization of her own profound foolishness crashed over her. She had betrayed her family, ruined her father, and stood ready to commit murder, all for a man who had given her an empty gun.
She dropped the weapon. It clattered uselessly to the floor.
"You're pathetic," Dominic spat, turning his weapon back toward Luca. "It doesn't matter if the deeds are gone, Moretti. I still have you. And once you're dead, the rest of your family will fall in line."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Dominic," a deep, rough voice echoed from beneath the floorboards.
Dominic jumped, spinning around.
Down in the tunnel, Marcus hadn't waited for permission. He kicked the heavy iron grate violently upward. The rusted metal shattered the wooden floorboards of the warehouse with a deafening crash, sending splinters flying.
Marcus hoisted himself up through the hole like a ghost rising from the grave. He was covered in mud, blood, and soot from the exploded SUV, his silver handgun leveled directly at Dominic’s head.
"You missed me with the car bomb, Bellini," Marcus growled, his voice thick with lethal promise.
Dominic’s eyes widened in sheer panic. He was surrounded. Luca’s tactical team was above him on the catwalks, Marcus was rising from the floor, and Luca stood calmly in front of him.
"Don't shoot!" Dominic shrieked, dropping his heavy revolver. The weapon hit the concrete, sliding away from him. He raised his hands, the arrogant mafia boss suddenly reduced to a terrified, trembling coward. "I surrender! I surrender!"
Luca didn't blink. He walked slowly toward Dominic, his polished black shoes echoing in the quiet warehouse.
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't yell.
Luca stopped inches from the man who had ordered the murder of his father, destroyed his engagement, and tried to kill his entire family.
"You don't get to surrender, Dominic," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute zero. "You don't get a trial. You don't get a comfortable cell in a federal prison."
Luca looked up at the catwalks. He gave a single, sharp nod.
Two heavily armed men in black tactical gear descended quickly via ropes. They didn't point guns at Dominic. They grabbed him by the arms, dragging him toward the massive aluminum bay doors that opened out directly into the freezing, churning waters of Lake Michigan.
"What are you doing?" Dominic screamed, thrashing wildly. "You can't do this! I'm the head of the Bellini family!"
"The Bellini family doesn't exist anymore," Luca said coldly, turning his back on the screaming man.
The heavy bay doors rolled up. The freezing wind howled into the warehouse.
I scrambled up out of the tunnel, covered in muck, just in time to see the tactical men drag Dominic out onto the loading dock. A heavy iron anchor chain was already prepared.
I looked away. I didn't want to see what happened next. The loud splash echoed a moment later, followed by absolute silence.
The war was over.
Marcus holstered his weapon, wincing as he pressed a hand to his bleeding head.
Luca walked over to Michael, pulling a switchblade from his pocket to cut the thick zip-ties binding his brother's wrists.
Michael stood up slowly, his body aching, his face bruised. He didn't look at Luca. He looked directly at Jenna, who was huddled on the floor near the overturned chair, sobbing hysterically into her hands.
"Mike," Luca said softly, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. "Let the police handle her. She made her choice."
Michael shook his head. He gently pushed Luca’s hand away.
He walked over to his daughter and knelt on the dirty concrete floor.
Jenna shrank away from him, terrified of the man she had just tried to kill. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, burying her face in her knees. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't know the gun was empty. I swear I wouldn't have pulled the trigger if I knew it was real."
It was the most horrific, pathetic confession a daughter could make to her father.
Michael looked at her, his eyes filled with a profound, crushing sorrow. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his hand.
He reached out and gently unclasped the silver bracelet from her wrist.
"You aren't my daughter anymore, Jenna," Michael whispered, his voice completely hollow.
He stood up, turning his back on her, and walked slowly toward the waiting town car.
Jenna’s screams echoed in the empty warehouse, begging him to come back, but Michael never looked back.
Luca watched his brother walk away, a deep sadness in his eyes. He signaled for two of his men to take Jenna into custody. She would be handed over to the police for conspiracy and attempted murder. The Moretti family protected their own, but Jenna had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
Luca finally turned and noticed me standing near the tunnel entrance, shivering in my wet, ruined dress.
He walked over, his hard expression softening instantly. He took off his dry suit jacket and draped it gently over my shoulders.
"You look terrible, Natalie," Luca said, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
"I feel terrible," I admitted, clutching the warm jacket around myself. "But I think I earned that quarter of a million dollars."
Luca’s smile widened slightly. "You earned much more than that. Come on. Let's get you home."
He led me toward the town car. The nightmare was finally over.
But as I climbed into the warm backseat, my foot brushed against something hidden under the floor mat.
I reached down and pulled it out.
It was a thick, sealed envelope, addressed to Luca, with the seal of the Archdiocese stamped in red wax on the back.
The orphanage deeds.
I frowned, holding it up. "Mr. Moretti? I thought you said the deeds were already with the Church?"
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Luca looked at the envelope in the rearview mirror. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated terror.
"Get out of the car," Luca whispered, his voice trembling. "Natalie, get out of the car right now!"
