Chapter 7 - THE FATHER'S MERCY AND THE RUSSIAN GAMBIT
The silence in the wine cellar was heavy, broken only by Thomas’s ragged, pained breathing on the stone floor.
I lowered the silenced pistol, my hands trembling violently now that the adrenaline was beginning to crash.
"I had to, Mr. Moretti," I stammered, terrified he might turn his wrath on me for pulling the trigger. "He woke up. He tried to attack us."
Luca didn't look angry at me. He looked at the gun in my hand, then at the blood pooling around Thomas’s leg, and a dark, terrifying satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
"You did exactly what you had to do, Rachel," Luca said softly.
He slowly descended the wooden stairs, his heavy boots echoing in the cavernous space. Behind him, Marco appeared in the doorway, his weapon drawn, scanning the cellar for threats before stepping aside to stand guard.
Luca walked past me, past Frank and Sophie, and stopped in front of Thomas.
The bleeding man looked up at his brother-in-law. The smug, desperate arrogance he had shown me just moments ago completely vanished. In its place was sheer, unadulterated terror.
"Luca," Thomas choked out, clutching his bleeding thigh. "Luca, please. Listen to me. The Bratva forced me. They threatened to kill me if I didn't cut Claire's brakes. I didn't want to do it."
Luca stared down at him. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his weapon. He just looked at the man who had lived in his guest house, eaten at his table, and mourned at his wife's funeral for four years.
"You cut the brakes on the car that was supposed to be carrying my daughter," Luca said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down my spine. "Claire only took that car because hers wouldn't start. You intended to kill my ten-year-old child to pay your gambling debts."
Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I was desperate! They were going to skin me alive!"
"Instead, they're going to skin you alive tonight," Luca said simply.
Thomas’s eyes snapped open. "What?"
Luca turned to Marco. "How many Russians did you find in the mansion?"
"Twelve, Boss," Marco replied from the stairs. "All neutralized. But they had communication devices. The rest of their crew outside knows we took them down. They're surrounding the estate as we speak."
"Good," Luca said.
He turned back to Thomas.
"The Bratva is outside my gates right now," Luca said to the bleeding man. "They want the money you owe them. Or they want the collateral you promised them. Since I'm not giving them my daughter, I'm giving them you."
Thomas began to thrash against his ropes, crying hysterically. "No! Luca, please! They'll torture me! You know what they do to people who steal from them! Just kill me! Kill me yourself!"
"You don't deserve the mercy of a quick death," Luca said coldly.
Luca reached down, grabbed Thomas by the collar, and hauled him upright, ignoring his screams of agony. He dragged the bound, bleeding man toward the stairs.
But before Luca could reach the bottom step, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder.
It was Frank.
The deaf grandfather was standing in front of Luca, blocking his path. His face was pale, his eyes red and swollen from crying, but his posture was resolute.
Frank signed rapidly, his movements sharp and aggressive.
I swallowed hard, stepping forward to translate.
"Mr. Moretti," I said, my voice shaky. "Frank says... he says you can't give him to the Russians."
Luca’s eyes narrowed. "Frank, this man killed your daughter. He tried to sell your granddaughter. He doesn't deserve your protection."
Frank shook his head violently. He signed again, pointing a trembling finger directly at Thomas, then at himself.
"He says he's not protecting him," I translated, watching the heartbreak in the older man's eyes. "He says Thomas is his blood. His failure. He says a father cleans up his own mess. He doesn't hand his son over to monsters to be tortured."
The cellar was dead quiet.
Frank reached into his own coat pocket.
He didn't pull out a handkerchief. He pulled out a small, heavy silver revolver.
My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't known he was armed.
Frank looked at Luca, his eyes silently pleading for understanding. He signed one final sentence.
"He says... let him do it," I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Let him end it with dignity. For Claire's sake."
Luca stared at the deaf, grieving father. The mafia boss understood the brutal, necessary weight of what Frank was asking. In their world, handing a traitor over to the Bratva was justice, but it was also a cruelty that would haunt Frank for the rest of his life.
Slowly, Luca nodded.
He let go of Thomas's collar. Thomas collapsed onto the stone floor, sobbing, looking up at his father.
"Dad," Thomas wept. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Frank didn't look angry anymore. He just looked impossibly tired. He walked over to Sophie, gently kissing her forehead, and signed to me.
Cover her eyes and ears.
I immediately knelt down, wrapping my arms around Sophie, burying her face in my shoulder and pressing my hands over her ears.
"It's okay, baby," I whispered to her. "Don't look."
I closed my own eyes.
I heard Frank's heavy footsteps walk across the stone floor. I heard the sound of the revolver's hammer clicking back.
A single, deafening gunshot echoed through the cellar.
I held Sophie tighter as the sound faded into a ringing silence.
When I opened my eyes, Frank was standing over his son's body. He slowly lowered the revolver to his side. He didn't cry. He just stared down at the floor, looking like a man who had left his soul behind.
Luca walked over to Frank. He gently placed a hand on the older man's shoulder, a silent gesture of absolute respect.
"Marco," Luca said quietly, breaking the silence. "Take Frank and Sophie through the hidden tunnel back to the main house. Get them into the armored SUV in the underground garage. I want them out of the city tonight."
"Yes, Boss," Marco said, holstering his weapon and moving down the stairs.
"What about you?" I asked, standing up, keeping Sophie tucked against my side.
Luca looked up at the heavy iron door leading outside.
"The Bratva came into my house," Luca said, his voice hardening into steel. "They tried to take my daughter. I am going to walk out the front gates and explain to them exactly why that was a mistake."
"Mr. Moretti, they have an army out there!" I protested. "You can't go out there alone!"
"I won't be alone," Luca smiled, a dark, terrifying expression. "I have the entire Chicago syndicate waiting in the trees."
He turned to leave, but then he stopped and looked at me.
"Rachel. Take my daughter. Do not let her out of your sight until I come for you."
"I swear it on my life," I said.
Luca nodded. He walked up the stairs and disappeared into the night.
I grabbed Sophie's hand, following Frank and Marco back into the dark, dusty tunnel leading to the mansion.
We moved quickly, the distant sounds of gunfire already beginning to echo from the front gates. Luca was waging war to protect us.
We reached the underground garage ten minutes later. It was a massive, concrete bunker filled with luxury cars.
Marco ushered us toward a heavy, black armored SUV parked near the exit ramp.
"Get in," Marco ordered, unlocking the doors. "I'm driving you to the safehouse in Wisconsin."
I opened the back door, helping Sophie climb inside. Frank slid in next to her, pulling the little girl into a tight, comforting embrace.
I moved to the passenger side door.
But before I could open it, my cell phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I hesitated. Nobody had this number except my brother and the mansion's main switchboard.
I pulled it out.
It was an unknown number.
I answered it. "Hello?"
"Rachel."
The voice on the other end made my blood run instantly cold.
It was Vanessa.
"You didn't think I was going to let you walk away with my prize, did you?" Vanessa asked, her voice dripping with venom.
May you like
"Vanessa," I gasped, looking around the empty garage. "Where are you?"
"I'm in your apartment, Rachel," Vanessa said softly. "And I'm looking at your deaf brother, Ben. He's tied to a chair. If you don't bring Sophie to me in exactly thirty minutes, I'm going to put a bullet in his head."
