Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TICKET
“Where is she?” Frank barked, pacing in front of Adriana.
Adriana looked up at him, her face bruised.
“I told you, she’s not coming.”
Frank pointed the gun at her head.
“You texted Luca. You warned him. Where is the girl?”
“She’s safe,” Adriana spat. “Far away from you.”
Luca tightened his grip on the tire iron. He was about to charge.
But Elena grabbed his arm, shaking her head.
Wait, she mouthed.
Frank laughed, a cold, hollow sound.
“You think you’re a hero, Adriana? You’ve been lying to your brother for eight years. You’re just as guilty as I am.”
“I lied to protect them from YOU!” she screamed.
“You lied because you liked the power,” Frank sneered. “You liked being the matriarch. And now, because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, I have to clean up your mess.”
He pulled back the hammer of the gun.
“Last chance. Where is Sophie?”
“Go to hell.”
Frank raised the weapon.
Suddenly, a massive metal crash echoed through the warehouse.
Everyone froze.
From the shadows on the opposite side of the room, a figure stepped forward.
It was Rosa.
She was holding a heavy iron pipe she had knocked over.
Frank turned, aiming the gun at her.
“Rosa,” he said softly. “You shouldn't be here.”
Rosa walked forward, her spine perfectly straight.
She didn't look like a confused 76-year-old woman.
She looked like a queen who had caught a thief in her castle.
“Put the gun down, Frank.”
Frank scoffed.
“Or what?”
Rosa reached into her purse.
She didn't pull out a weapon.
She pulled out a small, printed boarding pass.
“I was never confused, Frank,” Rosa said, her voice echoing in the empty space. “I knew you were stealing from the company. I knew you framed Elena. And I knew you ran Clara off the road.”
Frank’s face fell.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Rosa held up the ticket. “This is a one-way flight to Buenos Aires. Booked under the name Frank Moretti. Departing tomorrow morning at 6 AM.”
Frank lowered the gun slightly.
“I found it in your study,” Rosa continued. “You were planning to run. Because you knew the auditors were coming next week.”
She took a step closer.
“You didn't want to kill Elena today. You wanted the money. You just needed to silence her long enough to get on that plane.”
Frank stared at her.
Then, his expression turned vicious.
“You’re right, Rosa. I do need to get on that plane. Which means I can't leave any witnesses behind.”
He raised the gun toward Rosa’s chest.
Before he could pull the trigger, Luca lunged from the shadows.
He swung the tire iron, striking Frank’s arm with a sickening crack.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Frank collapsed, howling in pain.
Luca dropped the tire iron and pinned his uncle to the concrete, driving his fist into Frank’s face over and over again.
“Where is my daughter?!” Luca roared.
Frank spat blood, smiling a gruesome smile.
“You’re too late.”
But then, the heavy warehouse doors rolled open with a screech.
Flashing red and blue lights flooded the dark room.
Police officers swarmed in, weapons drawn.
And walking behind them, wrapped in a blanket, was Sophie.
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Beside her, holding her hand, was a woman who had been dead for eight years.
Elena had slipped out to find her.
