Chapter 7 - [THE BLOOD ON THE DINING ROOM FLOOR]
The dining room turned into a chaotic nightmare of screaming alarms, spraying water, and blinding white chemical foam.
Marco and Luca’s guards burst from the kitchen, tackling Silvio’s blinded men. The sound of fists hitting flesh and bodies crashing into tables echoed over the deafening siren.
I stayed huddled behind the bar, screaming Tyler’s name.
“Mom!” Tyler yelled from the center of the room.
Through the thick mist of the foam, I saw Silvio wiping his eyes. He had drawn a pistol and was aiming blindly toward where Luca was fighting one of the guards.
But Tyler was closer.
My son, the boy who had spent a year learning to rebuild his life, didn't hesitate. He launched himself at the man who had ruined our family.
Tyler tackled Silvio around the waist just as the gun went off.
BANG.
The gunshot cut through the noise of the alarm like a cannon.
Tyler collapsed backward, hitting the wet floor.
“NO!” I screamed, tearing out from behind the bar.
Luca spun around, realizing what had happened. He grabbed a heavy wine bottle from a nearby table and smashed it across Silvio’s jaw. The old man crumbled to the ground, completely unconscious.
I slid across the slippery floor, crashing to my knees beside my son.
Tyler was clutching his right shoulder. Bright, crimson blood was pouring between his fingers, mixing with the water and foam on the floor.
“Tyler! Oh my god, Tyler!” I sobbed, ripping off my apron and pressing it hard against his wound.
Tyler was gasping, his face ghostly pale. “Mom… Mom, it hurts.”
“I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you.” I applied all my weight to the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
Luca dropped to his knees beside us. He pulled out his phone, his hands covered in Silvio’s blood.
“Marco! Call the paramedics! Now!” Luca shouted.
“Boss, the police are coming!” Marco yelled over the alarm, zip-tying Silvio’s wrists. “The fire alarm triggered the dispatch!”
“Let them come,” Luca snarled. “I have the ledger. I have Silvio. The cops can have them both.”
Tyler grabbed Luca’s sleeve with his good hand. His grip was weak, his eyes rolling back slightly.
“Mr. Moretti…” Tyler choked out.
“Don’t speak, Tyler. Save your strength,” Luca said, pressing his own hands over mine on the wound.
“No… listen to me,” Tyler wheezed. “Silvio’s jacket… when I tackled him… I saw the logo embroidered inside the lining.”
I leaned in closer. “What logo, baby?”
“St. Jude’s,” Tyler whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. “St. Jude’s Orphanage. On the edge of the county line.”
Tyler looked at me, his eyes filled with desperate, agonizing pleading.
“Mom… don't let him burn my little girl. Please.”
Tyler’s eyes rolled back, and his body went limp.
“Tyler!” I screamed, shaking his good shoulder. “Tyler, wake up!”
The distant wail of ambulance sirens pierced the night air.
Luca checked Tyler’s pulse. “He’s alive, Patricia. He’s passed out from the pain, but the bullet went clean through the shoulder. He’s going to make it.”
I leaned over my son, kissing his wet cheek.
Marco ran over. “Paramedics are pulling up, boss.”
Luca stood up, his white button-down shirt soaked in water and my son’s blood. He looked down at Silvio Bellini, then out the shattered doors toward the approaching sirens.
“Marco, stay with Tyler and Patricia. Make sure the police get the ledger and Silvio.”
I looked up at Luca. “Where are you going?”
Luca picked up his car keys from the table. His eyes were completely dark.
“I’m going to St. Jude’s,” Luca said. “And I’m bringing your granddaughter home.”
I looked down at Tyler, who was now being loaded onto a stretcher by the paramedics. I knew he was safe in the hands of the medics. But my granddaughter was in a building meant to burn.
May you like
I stood up, leaving my bloody apron on the floor.
“No, you’re not,” I said, walking toward Luca. “We’re going together.”
