Chapter 9 - THE SILVER BULLET
I stared at the silver bullet rolling across the mahogany desk, the polished metal gleaming under the study lamp.
The Commission.
I had heard the whispers among the staff over the past year. Judge Vance had provided political cover for Vincent’s empire, but the true power in the underworld belonged to the Commission—the shadowy syndicate of mafia bosses who ruled the East Coast.
And they were led by Don Carmine.
The study door swung open. Vincent walked in, smiling, holding two glasses of champagne.
“I was thinking we could take my mother’s boat out this week—”
His voice died in his throat.
He saw the black envelope. He saw the silver bullet.
The warm, relaxed man I had spent the day with vanished instantly. The cold, ruthless mafia boss returned, his eyes hardening into obsidian.
He set the glasses down, snatched the note, and read it.
His jaw locked so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.
“Who brought this in?” Vincent demanded, his voice dangerously low.
“I don’t know,” I stammered, my heart racing. “It was just sitting here.”
Vincent pulled his gun from his holster and stormed out into the hallway.
“Lock down the estate!” Vincent roared. “Nobody in or out! Find out who breached the perimeter!”
Guards scrambled, alarms echoing through the massive mansion.
Vincent returned to the study and slammed the door. He walked to the safe hidden behind the oil painting of his father, spinning the dial rapidly.
“Vincent, what does this mean?” I asked, terrified.
“It means my father’s sins aren't finished with me,” Vincent said grimly.
He opened the safe and pulled out a heavy duffel bag. He tossed it onto the desk and unzipped it. It was packed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills, passports, and a set of keys.
“By using the FBI to take down Vance, I broke Omertà,” Vincent explained, stuffing more cash into the bag. “The mafia code of silence. Even though Vance killed my mother, the Commission sees going to the feds as the ultimate treason.”
He zipped the bag and shoved it into my hands.
“Take this. Take your mother. Go to the airport. I have a private jet fueled and waiting on the tarmac. It will take you to Switzerland. You’ll be safe there.”
I dropped the bag on the floor.
“I’m not leaving you!” I yelled.
“Emily, listen to me!” Vincent grabbed my shoulders, his eyes wild with fear—not for himself, but for me. “Don Carmine doesn't make empty threats. A silver bullet means execution. He has five hundred soldiers. I can’t protect you and fight a war at the same time!”
“You told me we were in this together!” I cried.
“You’re a civilian, Emily! This isn't your world!”
“I stopped being just a civilian the night I threw that coat in the train station!” I fired back, refusing to back down. “I love you, Vincent. I’m not running.”
Vincent stared at me, completely disarmed by my defiance. He pulled me into his chest, burying his face in my hair, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“If Carmine touches you, I’ll burn the entire city to the ground,” he whispered.
Suddenly, the lights in the mansion flickered, buzzed, and went completely black.
The backup generators didn't kick on.
Outside the window, the deafening screech of twisting metal echoed through the night.
I ran to the glass.
Three heavily armored black trucks had just smashed through the front iron gates of the estate. Dozens of armed men poured out onto the lawn, wearing tactical gear, carrying assault rifles.
“They’re early,” Vincent said, his voice dead calm.
He grabbed my hand. “We need to get to the panic room.”
We sprinted down the dark hallway. Vincent corralled Arthur, Catherine, Leo, and my mother, rushing them down into the sub-basement where a reinforced steel bunker was hidden.
“Get inside,” Vincent ordered, sealing them in.
“Aren't you coming in?” my mother cried, terrified.
“I have to hold them off,” Vincent said. He looked at me. “Lock the door behind me. Do not open it for anyone but me.”
He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm.
“Vincent, wait,” I said, my mind racing.
Earlier today, when Arthur had brought the heavy leather coat back to the mansion, I had been cleaning it. I had noticed something the police had missed when they took the documents.
There was a second, smaller hidden pocket in the sleeve.
“I found something in your father’s coat this morning,” I said rapidly. “I put it in your desk drawer.”
Vincent frowned. “What is it?”
“A small red ledger. Your father’s handwriting. It had Don Carmine’s name on it.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in the dark.
“My father kept blackmail on the head of the Commission?”
Gunfire suddenly erupted upstairs. The front doors had been breached.
“Stay in the bunker!” Vincent yelled. “I’m getting that ledger!”
He sprinted back up the stairs into the darkness.
I stood in the doorway of the panic room. Arthur and my mother were weeping.
May you like
I couldn't stay in the box.
I grabbed a flashlight, closed the steel door behind me, and ran after Vincent.
