Chapter 6 - THE EMPTY HOUSE
Luca drove like a man possessed. The heavy SUV tore through the quiet suburban streets of Oak Park, ignoring stop signs and speed limits.
In the backseat, Samuel gripped my hand so tightly my fingers were numb, but I didn't pull away. I kept my arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, whispering that everything was going to be okay, even though my own heart was hammering in my throat.
We rounded the corner onto Elm Street and slammed to a halt.
Mrs. Gable was right. A single Chicago Police cruiser was parked at an angle on the wet grass of Aunt June’s front lawn. The lights weren't flashing, but the front door of the charming, yellow-painted house was wide open, swaying slightly in the damp wind.
Before the car was even fully in park, Luca threw open his door.
"Stay in the car, Hannah. Lock the doors," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Luca, please!" Samuel cried, terrified.
"Stay here, Sammy. I mean it," Luca commanded.
He slammed the door, and I immediately hit the lock button. We watched through the rain-streaked windows as Luca sprinted up the concrete walkway. He didn't even pause at the open doorway; he disappeared into the house.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The silence in the car was suffocating.
"Hannah," Samuel whispered, his voice trembling. "Is Aunt June dead?"
"Don't say that, sweetheart," I said quickly, pulling him closer to my side. "We don't know anything yet. Luca is in there. He'll figure it out."
But inside, I was terrified. Aunt June was a seventy-year-old woman with a bad hip. She was fiercely protective of Samuel, which made her incredibly dangerous to Vanessa Bellini.
Suddenly, a police officer stepped out of the front door. He looked annoyed, holding a notepad. A second later, Luca walked out behind him.
Luca wasn't handcuffed, but his posture was rigid with suppressed rage. He said something sharp to the officer, who just shook his head and walked toward the cruiser.
Luca jogged back to the SUV and pulled the door open.
"She's not there," Luca said, breathing heavily. He climbed into the driver's seat and slammed his hands against the steering wheel. "The house is completely empty."
"What did the police say?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"They got a noise complaint from a neighbor across the street," Luca growled. "An hour ago, a black town car pulled into the driveway. Two men forced June out of the house. She was screaming."
Samuel let out a small, horrified gasp. "They kidnapped her?"
"The police are treating it as a wellness check for an elderly woman in distress," Luca spat, his disgust evident. "Vanessa's father has politicians in his pocket. He probably made a phone call to downplay the dispatch."
"Luca, they have her," Samuel cried, tears spilling over his cheeks. "Because of me. Because she took the bracelet to protect me."
"Hey," Luca said, turning around in his seat to look directly at his little brother. "Do not do that. Do not take the blame for the actions of evil people. This is on Vanessa, not you."
"But where did they take her?" I asked.
Luca stared out the windshield, his mind working furiously. "The Bellinis don't have the resources they used to. They sold their estate in Lake Forest last year. Vanessa lives—lived—with me."
He paused, his eyes narrowing as a memory surfaced.
"The old paper mill," Luca whispered.
I frowned. "What?"
"Arthur Bellini's family started in paper manufacturing. They have an abandoned mill on the South Side. They've been trying to sell the land for years but it's drowning in environmental liens. It's empty. It's private."
Luca shifted the car into gear. "That's where they took her."
"Shouldn't we call the police back?" I asked, panic rising in my chest. "Tell them where to look?"
"By the time they get a warrant, June could be dead," Luca said coldly. "The Bellinis are desperate. Desperate people don't wait for lawyers."
He looked at me in the rearview mirror.
"Hannah, I'm dropping you and Sammy at my downtown office. My security team is there. You'll be safe."
"No!" Samuel shouted, leaning forward and grabbing the back of Luca's seat. "I'm not leaving you. I lost Dad. I am not losing you, too."
"Sammy, it's too dangerous—"
"I don't care!" the fourteen-year-old screamed, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing grief that filled the entire car. "She was the only one who visited me! She took me in when you forgot about me!"
The words hit Luca like a physical blow. He closed his eyes, the guilt twisting his features in agony.
I placed a hand on Samuel’s back, feeling the boy trembling violently.
"Mr. Moretti," I said quietly, surprising myself with the steadiness of my own voice. "If we leave him at an office with strangers, he will never feel safe again. You promised him he wasn't going away anymore."
Luca looked at me, then at the tear-soaked face of his little brother.
He let out a heavy breath.
"Okay," Luca said softly. "You stay in the car. Both of you. No matter what happens, you do not get out of this vehicle until I say so. Understood?"
"Understood," I promised.
The drive to the South Side was a blur of gray concrete and abandoned warehouses. The rain started again, beating aggressively against the windshield. We turned down a pot-holed industrial road, pulling up to a massive, rust-covered chain-link fence.
Beyond the fence sat a sprawling, decaying brick building.
Bellini Paper Co. was barely visible on the faded paint above the loading docks.
A sleek black town car was parked near the side entrance.
"That's them," Luca said, his voice dropping an octave.
He parked the SUV behind a rusted dumpster, out of sight from the main windows. He turned off the engine.
Then, Luca reached under his seat.
My breath caught in my throat as he pulled out a heavy, black handgun.
Samuel stared at the weapon, his eyes wide. I knew Luca was a powerful man, and I knew his family had "connections," but seeing the gun made the danger terrifyingly real.
Luca checked the magazine, his face entirely devoid of emotion. He was no longer the grieving son or the apologetic brother. He was the boss of the Moretti family.
"Lock the doors," Luca instructed, looking at me. "Keep your phone in your hand. If I'm not out in twenty minutes, call Sterling. Tell him where you are."
"Please be careful," I whispered.
Luca gave Samuel one last look, a promise silently passing between them. Then, he opened the door and stepped into the rain.
He moved silently across the wet gravel, blending into the shadows of the old building. We watched him slip through a broken side door.
The minutes dragged. Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Samuel was hyperventilating beside me. I pulled him against my chest, stroking his damp hair, praying quietly.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from inside the mill.
Samuel jumped. "Luca!"
Before I could stop him, Samuel unlocked his door and threw it open, sprinting toward the building.
"Samuel, no!" I screamed.
I scrambled out of the SUV and ran after him, the cold rain soaking my clothes instantly. I caught up to him just as he reached the broken side door. I grabbed his father's coat, pulling him back.
"He said stay in the car!" I pleaded.
But as I pulled him back, I looked through the doorway into the dim, dusty interior of the mill.
I froze.
Luca was standing in the center of the room, his gun raised. But he wasn't pointing it at Arthur Bellini. He wasn't pointing it at Vanessa.
He was pointing it at Aunt June.
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And Aunt June was holding a gun pointed directly at Luca’s chest.
"I'm sorry, Luca," the old woman wept, her hands shaking violently. "But I have to give them the boy."
