Chapter 8 - THE SHATTERED REMOTE
The massive meatpacking plant erupted into absolute chaos.
With the remote detonator shattered on the concrete floor, the threat of instant vaporization vanished, replaced immediately by the deafening roar of automatic gunfire.
Luca, moving with lethal, predatory speed, used the body of the guard he had just killed as a human shield against the remaining three mercenaries on the catwalk. The narrow metal walkway sparked violently as bullets chewed through the grating.
I remained frozen behind the thick steel pillar on the ground floor, my hands clamped over my ears, terrified by the sheer volume of violence erupting thirty feet above me.
"Silvio! Now!" Luca roared over the gunfire.
Suddenly, the heavy metal rolling doors at the far end of the warehouse blew inward with a concussive blast.
Silvio, Luca’s brutal second-in-command, poured into the building flanked by a dozen heavily armed Moretti loyalists. They hadn't been waiting outside; they had been planting breaching charges while Luca distracted Falcone.
The warehouse turned into a slaughterhouse.
The remaining Falcone guards, realizing their boss was dangling helplessly from a broken catwalk and their explosives were useless, began to panic. The disciplined crossfire of Luca’s men cut them down rapidly.
Above, Luca dropped his human shield, kicked the gun out of the second mercenary's hand, and delivered a devastating elbow to the man's throat. The third mercenary tried to flee down the metal stairs, but Silvio picked him off with a precise three-round burst from the ground floor.
The catwalk was secure.
The gunfire in the warehouse slowly ceased, replaced by the groans of the dying and the heavy, ragged breathing of the survivors.
I peeked out from behind the pillar.
Luca stood on the catwalk, his chest heaving, his dark suit dusted with concrete powder. He looked down at Don Falcone.
The elderly mafia boss was still dangling precariously in his broken wheelchair, caught in the jagged metal grating. He was coughing violently, blood spotting his lips, grasping desperately at the rusted iron chain to keep from falling twenty feet to the concrete floor.
Luca slowly walked over to him.
He didn't raise a weapon. He simply stared down at the man who had orchestrated the murder of his father, the man who had tried to blow up his son.
"Help me up, Luca," Falcone wheezed, his arrogance completely shattered by sheer terror. "We can negotiate. I concede the territory. Chicago is yours."
Luca looked at him, his expression completely devoid of mercy or humanity.
"You sent a woman into my home to poison my family," Luca said softly, his voice carrying clearly in the suddenly quiet warehouse. "You targeted my eight-year-old son."
"It was business!" Falcone pleaded, his grip slipping slightly on the chain. "It wasn't personal!"
"It became personal the moment you threatened Henry," Luca said.
Luca reached out.
He didn't grab Falcone's hand to pull him up.
He placed his heavy boot on the twisted wheel of the wheelchair and pushed down.
The metal grating groaned in protest, buckling further under the added weight.
"Luca, no! Please!" Falcone shrieked, true panic finally breaking his voice.
"Say hello to my father," Luca whispered.
Luca shoved his boot down hard.
The jagged metal snapped. The wheelchair tipped backward, completely free of the catwalk.
Don Falcone let out a terrifying, abbreviated scream as he plummeted twenty feet to the floor below. The sickening crack of his body hitting the concrete echoed loudly in the silent warehouse.
He didn't move again.
Luca stared down at the body for a long moment, the vengeance he had sought for years finally complete. But there was no triumph in his eyes. Only a deep, exhausting emptiness.
"Boss," Silvio called out from the ground floor, stepping cautiously toward the body. "He's dead. The compound is secure."
Luca nodded slowly, turning away from the edge.
He looked down toward the heavy steel pillar where I was hiding.
"Emily," Luca called out, his voice instantly softening, searching the shadows. "Are you there?"
I stepped out from behind the pillar, trembling uncontrollably, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a physical wave.
Luca practically sprinted down the metal stairs, taking them three at a time. He crossed the floor and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a crushing, desperate embrace.
"You're okay," Luca breathed, burying his face in my hair, his heart hammering wildly against my chest. "Thank God you're okay."
"I pulled the lever," I sobbed, clutching his suit jacket, overwhelmed by the sheer relief of being in his arms. "I didn't know what else to do."
"You saved my life," Luca said, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes, a fierce, undeniable awe shining in his dark gaze. "Again."
Before I could answer, a loud commotion erupted near the front entrance of the warehouse.
Two of Silvio's men were dragging a heavily bleeding, struggling figure through the doors.
It was Marco.
"Boss!" one of the guards yelled. "We found this traitor outside. He was trying to surrender to the Falcone guards."
Marco was in bad shape. He had been shot again, this time in the side, his shirt soaked in dark blood. He collapsed to his knees on the concrete, gasping for air.
Luca's expression hardened instantly. He let go of me and walked slowly toward the man who had been his best friend.
"Marco," Luca said, his voice cold and devoid of pity. "You survived the diversion."
"Luca, wait!" I shouted, running after him, grabbing his arm. "He didn't betray you tonight! He came to the tunnel to warn us! He told me about the trap!"
Luca stopped, looking at me in surprise, then back at Marco.
"Is this true?" Luca demanded.
Marco coughed violently, spitting blood onto the floor. He looked up at Luca, tears streaming down his scarred face.
"Falcone killed my wife, Boss," Marco wept, the sound pathetic and broken. "He lied to me. I had nothing left to lose. I just wanted to buy you time."
Luca stared at him, the betrayal warring with the decades of loyalty they had shared.
"Where are your daughters, Marco?" Luca asked quietly.
"I don't know," Marco sobbed, dropping his head into his hands. "He hid them somewhere in the city. If Falcone is dead, his men will execute them. I failed them. I failed everybody."
Luca looked at Silvio.
"Silvio, secure the Falcone lieutenant we captured outside," Luca ordered sharply. "I want a location on Marco's daughters in five minutes. Use whatever methods are necessary."
Silvio grinned, a dark, terrifying expression. "With pleasure, Boss."
Luca turned back to Marco.
"If we find your daughters alive, Marco," Luca said, his voice flat, "you will take them, you will leave Chicago, and you will never return. If I ever see your face again, I will kill you myself."
Marco wept harder, nodding frantically, overwhelmed by a mercy he didn't deserve.
"Thank you, Boss," Marco choked out. "Thank you."
Luca turned away, refusing to look at him anymore. He walked back to me, the heavy burden of command settling visibly on his broad shoulders.
"Let's get out of this slaughterhouse," Luca said softly, taking my hand. "We need to get back to Henry."
We walked out of the warehouse into the pouring rain. The sirens were wailing in the distance; the police were finally responding to the massive gunfight.
We climbed into the back of an armored SUV, Silvio taking the wheel.
The drive back to the safehouse was silent. I rested my head against Luca's shoulder, utterly exhausted, my mind numb from the violence and betrayal of the night.
When we finally reached the quiet suburban street, the rain had stopped.
I jumped out of the car before Silvio even put it in park. I sprinted up to the front door, my heart soaring at the thought of finally holding Henry again.
I punched the code into the keypad. The heavy door clicked open.
I burst into the living room, a smile breaking across my face.
"Henry, we're back!" I called out joyfully.
The house was dead silent.
I stopped in the center of the living room, my smile vanishing instantly.
The heavy steel fire extinguisher I had used to hit Vanessa was still lying on the floor.
But Vanessa was gone. The pool of blood where she had fallen was smeared, leading toward the kitchen.
"Henry?" I called out again, panic rising rapidly in my throat.
Luca burst through the front door, sensing my fear immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Vanessa is gone," I whispered, pointing at the blood smear.
Luca drew his weapon instantly, sweeping the house. The kitchen was empty. The bedrooms were empty.
"She must have woken up and fled when she realized we were gone," Luca said, his voice tight with concern. "Did you lock the vault, Emily?"
"Yes," I nodded frantically. "I locked it from the outside. Henry is safe inside."
We rushed down the basement stairs, turning the corner toward the heavy steel vault door.
I froze, the air completely leaving my lungs.
The digital keypad next to the vault door was smashed into pieces, wires sparking uselessly.
And the massive, circular steel door of the vault was standing wide open.
"Henry!" Luca roared, sprinting into the vault.
I followed him, my legs trembling so badly I could barely stand.
The vault was completely empty.
But sitting perfectly centered on the leather couch, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights, was a small, bright red suitcase.
And resting on top of it was the little blue mitten.
Tucked inside the mitten was a handwritten note.
Luca snatched the note, his hands shaking violently. He read it, his face draining of all color, his eyes widening in absolute, apocalyptic terror.
"Luca, what does it say?" I cried, grabbing his arm.
He slowly lowered the paper, looking at me with eyes that promised to burn the entire world to ash.
"She didn't run away, Emily," Luca whispered, his voice cracking with a terrifying devastation.
He handed me the note.
May you like
Written in Vanessa's elegant cursive were five chilling words.
I always finish Phase Two.
