Chapter 7 - THE HEAVY ROSARY
"He has my sister?" Hannah screamed, lunging forward, but Alessandro caught her waist, pulling her back.
"Where is she, Marcus?" Alessandro demanded, his voice a low, terrifying growl.
"Carmine’s private club in the South Loop," Marcus said, staring at the gold bracelet in his calloused hand. "He sent his men to the bakery right after you left. They took Claire. They told my wife that if you don't sign the Rossi contract by midnight, Claire dies. And if I try to stop him, she dies."
Hannah felt the world spinning. Her sister, who had tried to save the bakery, who had foolishly taken a mob loan, was now sitting in a basement waiting to be executed.
"We have to go to the police," Hannah panicked, grabbing Alessandro’s arm. "We have to tell them!"
"The police on Carmine’s payroll will shoot us before we walk through the precinct doors," Alessandro said coldly. He lowered his gun and looked at Marcus. "You’ve been hiding for twenty years. Why come back now?"
Marcus looked up, his green eyes hardening into chips of ice. "Because I finally found the proof I needed to destroy him."
Marcus reached back into his jacket. This time, he pulled out a heavy, ornate silver rosary. The crucifix at the end was unusually thick.
He tossed it to Alessandro.
Alessandro caught it, his brow furrowing as he examined the heavy cross. "What is this?"
"It’s not just a rosary," Marcus explained. "The crucifix is hollow. Inside is an analog micro-cassette. A recording from twenty-two years ago."
Alessandro froze. The blood drained from his face, leaving his skin a pale, ghostly white.
"The night my parents died," Alessandro whispered.
Marcus nodded slowly. "Everyone thought your parents were killed by a rival gang in a drive-by. But the hit was orchestrated from inside. Carmine ordered it. He wanted the empire, but your father was in the way. I was the driver that night, Alessandro. I wore a wire because I didn't trust Carmine. I recorded the order."
Hannah watched in absolute shock as the invincible mafia boss seemed to crumble. Alessandro stared at the rosary in his hands, his chest heaving as twenty years of grief and deception crashed down on him.
His uncle, the man who had raised him, who had mentored him, was the man who had murdered his parents.
"Why didn't you bring this to the syndicate families?" Alessandro demanded, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, unholy rage.
"Because Carmine took power the next day," Marcus said. "I was framed for the missing money a week later. If I brought the tape forward, Carmine would have slaughtered my family to silence me. I had to wait until you were strong enough to challenge him."
Alessandro slowly closed his fist around the rosary. The metal groaned under his crushing grip. When he looked up, his eyes were completely devoid of humanity. He looked like the monster the city believed him to be.
"We are going to the club," Alessandro said.
"No!" Hannah cried. "It’s a suicide mission! If you go in there, his men will kill you both!"
Alessandro turned to her. The terrifying mask slipped, revealing the man she had fallen in love with. He reached out and gently cupped her cheek, smearing a bit of his own blood on her pale skin.
"I promised to protect you, Hannah," he whispered. "I'm going to bring your sister home. And then I am going to burn my uncle's world to the ground."
He turned away and began walking toward the street, Marcus falling into step beside him.
Hannah didn't hesitate. She hitched up the skirt of the ruined red dress and ran after them.
"I'm coming with you," she stated.
"Hannah, absolutely not—" her father started.
"She is my sister!" Hannah yelled, pointing at Marcus. "You abandoned us for twenty years! You do not get to tell me what to do!"
Marcus flinched, the guilt heavy on his face. He didn't argue.
They stole a car parked down the block—a quiet, efficient hotwire job by Marcus—and drove through the rainy Chicago night toward the South Loop.
The club was disguised as an upscale cigar lounge. Two massive enforcers stood at the front doors.
Alessandro didn't try to sneak in. He didn't try to negotiate.
He walked directly up to the front doors, drawing his weapon, and shot both men in the kneecaps before they could even reach for their radios.
The heavy mahogany doors slammed open.
The lounge was empty of civilians, cleared out for the night's business. In the center of the room, tied to a heavy wooden chair, was Claire. She was sobbing, a bruise forming on her cheek.
Standing beside her, holding a suppressed pistol to her head, was Brian.
The accountant looked terrified, sweating through his suit, clearly forced into the role of executioner to prove his loyalty after selling out the hit.
At the back of the room, sitting on a leather sofa sipping scotch, was Carmine.
"Right on time, nephew," Carmine smiled, setting his glass down. He looked at Marcus and chuckled. "And you brought a ghost. How poetic."
"Let the girl go, Carmine," Alessandro said, his gun aimed squarely at his uncle’s chest.
"Sign the Rossi contract on the table," Carmine countered, motioning to a document resting on a glass table. "Or Brian paints the floor with her."
Brian’s hand shook violently against Claire’s head. "I'm sorry, Hannah! He made me do it! I have to!"
Alessandro didn't look at the contract. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the heavy silver rosary, letting the cross dangle from his fingers.
Carmine’s smile vanished instantly. The color drained from his face as he recognized the heirloom.
"Do your men know, Uncle?" Alessandro asked, his voice echoing in the quiet club. "Do the men guarding your doors know that you murdered your own brother to sit on that throne?"
Carmine stood up quickly, his cane clattering to the floor. "Kill them! Kill them all!"
None of the guards moved. In the mafia, fratricide was the ultimate sin. The men exchanged uncertain looks, staring at the rosary in Alessandro’s hand.
Realizing his men were hesitating, Carmine panicked. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver revolver.
May you like
But he didn't aim it at Alessandro.
He aimed it directly at Hannah’s chest.
