Chapter 8 - THE TRAITOR REVEALED
I watched the security monitor in pure horror.
The Romano attacker fired, but the bullet didn't hit Nicholas.
A figure in a tailored suit lunged across the screen, tackling Nicholas to the marble floor just a fraction of a second before the bullet shattered the vase where Nicholas had been standing.
It was Silvio.
The older Consigliere rolled across the floor, drawing his own weapon and putting two rounds directly into the attacker’s chest.
I let out a gasping sob of relief, sliding down the wall of the safe room until I hit the floor.
“He’s alive, Mom,” I choked out, tears streaming down my face. “He’s okay.”
On the screen, Nicholas hauled Silvio to his feet. They took cover behind a massive marble pillar as the firefight in the foyer intensified. Marco and his exterior men had finally pushed through the broken front doors, trapping the Romano attackers in a deadly crossfire.
Within five minutes, the shooting stopped.
The smoke began to clear.
The Romano men were either dead or surrendering, dropping their weapons onto the ruined Persian rug.
Nicholas stood up, his dark shirt covered in dust, his face grim but victorious. He issued a sharp command, and Marco’s men began securing the prisoners.
I scrambled to my feet, ready to unlock the safe room door.
But as I reached for the keypad, the security monitor showed something that made my blood run cold.
The camera angle in the grand foyer captured Silvio standing behind Nicholas.
Silvio wasn't lowering his weapon.
He was raising it.
And he was aiming it directly at the back of Nicholas’s head.
“No!” I screamed, hitting the door release button.
The heavy steel door hissed open.
I burst out of the safe room, sprinting down the hallway toward the grand staircase.
“Nicholas!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
My voice echoed through the massive house, cutting through the ringing silence of the aftermath.
Nicholas spun around at the sound of his name.
His sudden movement saved his life.
Silvio fired, but the bullet grazed Nicholas’s shoulder instead of taking off the back of his skull.
Nicholas stumbled backward, clutching his arm, shock and betrayal flashing across his face.
Marco and the other guards froze, unable to process what they were seeing. The Consigliere, the most trusted man in the family, had just tried to assassinate the Boss.
“Drop it, Silvio!” Marco roared, raising his rifle.
Silvio didn't drop his gun. He grabbed one of the surrendered Romano men, using the terrified soldier as a human shield, backing toward the shattered front doors.
I reached the top of the grand staircase, panting, gripping the marble railing.
Nicholas looked up at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. He was bleeding, but he was alive.
“Why, Silvio?” Nicholas yelled, his voice echoing with profound heartbreak. “My father treated you like a brother for forty years!”
Silvio laughed, a bitter, hollow sound.
“Your father was a fool, Nicky,” Silvio sneered, backing toward the rain-soaked driveway. “He gave the master key to a cheap suburban secretary instead of me. I built this empire with him! I deserved those ledgers!”
“You sold us out to the Romanos,” Nicholas said, the truth finally slamming into place.
“I didn't sell you out,” Silvio spat. “I bought my retirement. I was the one who told the Romanos about the bastard son. I was the one who fed Andrew the information about his mother’s locket. He was just too incompetent to get it done.”
Silvio shoved his human shield forward and bolted out the front doors into the darkness.
“Let him go!” Nicholas ordered as Marco moved to pursue.
“Boss, we have to finish him!” Marco argued.
“He’s a dead man walking,” Nicholas said coldly, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “The Romanos failed tonight. Their men are dead. When Silvio shows up empty-handed, Marco Romano will put a bullet in his head himself.”
Nicholas turned away from the door.
He looked up the staircase.
He didn't care about the ruined mansion. He didn't care about the traitors or the bodies on the floor.
He slowly walked up the marble steps, his eyes locked entirely on me.
When he reached the top, I didn't hesitate. I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
May you like
Nicholas wrapped his good arm around my waist, pulling me so tightly against him I could feel his heart hammering against mine.
“I told you,” he whispered into my hair, his voice raspy and exhausted. “I always come back.”
