Chapter 6 - The Fall from the Balcony
The gunshot echoed like thunder over the wail of the approaching sirens.
BANG.
I screamed from the library window as Leo staggered backward on the balcony.
He didn't fall immediately. He stood there for a horrific, suspended second, his hand clutching his abdomen, his eyes wide with shock. Then, his knees buckled, and he collapsed over the stone railing.
"LEO!" Luca roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony tearing from his throat.
Luca lunged forward, ignoring Vanessa entirely, sprinting toward the spot where his brother would land.
But Leo didn't fall to the courtyard below. His suit jacket snagged violently on the ornate ironwork of the balcony railing, leaving him dangling precariously twenty feet in the air, bleeding profusely.
Vanessa stared up at him, a manic, satisfied grin spreading across her rain-slicked face.
She raised the gun to finish the job.
Before she could pull the trigger, Marco burst through the front doors, his assault rifle raised. He didn't hesitate. He fired a single, precise shot.
Vanessa screamed, dropping her weapon as the bullet shattered her right knee. She collapsed onto the wet cobblestones, writhing in agony.
"Secure her!" Marco barked to his men, sprinting toward Luca.
I didn't wait in the library. I unlocked the heavy oak doors and ran as fast as I could down the grand staircase, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
When I reached the balcony overlooking the foyer, I leaned over the railing, looking down at Leo.
He was hanging by the fabric of his jacket, groaning in pain, his face deathly pale.
"Hold on, Leo! I'm coming!" I screamed, abandoning all caution.
I climbed over the marble balustrade and shimmied down the thick stone pillar supporting the balcony. My hands scraped against the rough masonry, but I didn't feel the pain. I reached the lower ledge and grabbed Leo by his belt, pulling him backward with every ounce of strength I possessed.
"Hannah," Leo gasped, coughing up a small amount of blood. "Let go. I'm too heavy."
"I am not letting you go!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. I braced my feet against the stone and hauled backward.
With a sickening rip of fabric, his jacket tore free from the ironwork.
We both tumbled backward onto the balcony floor, landing hard against the stone.
"I've got you," I sobbed, pressing my hands frantically over the gunshot wound in his side. Warm blood seeped rapidly through my fingers.
The heavy doors of the balcony burst open. Luca and the estate medic rushed out, their faces pale with terror.
"Move, Hannah!" the medic ordered, dropping to his knees and ripping open his trauma kit.
Luca dropped beside us, grabbing Leo's face in his hands.
"Stay with me, little brother," Luca commanded, his voice shaking with a fierce, desperate love. "You hear me? You do not get to leave me now."
Leo offered a weak, bloody smile. "Bossy... as always."
"I mean it, Leo," Luca pleaded, tears finally spilling over his dark lashes.
The medic worked with terrifying speed, packing the wound and applying a pressure dressing. "The bullet missed his liver, Boss, but he's losing a lot of blood. We need to get him to the clinic now."
"The police are at the gates," Marco announced, stepping onto the balcony. "They're breaching the perimeter."
Luca stood up, the vulnerability vanishing instantly, replaced by the calculating, ruthless Don of Chicago.
"Marco, get Leo and Hannah to the underground tunnels," Luca ordered. "Take the secondary exit to the clinic. I will stay and handle the police."
"Boss, you can't!" Marco argued. "There are dead Russians in the driveway and your father is dead in the library! They'll arrest you!"
"Let them," Luca said coldly. "I have the best lawyers in the city. I'll be out on bail by morning. But if they find Leo bleeding from a gunshot wound, they'll lock him in a prison ward. Go."
Marco nodded grimly. He hoisted Leo gently into his massive arms.
I grabbed Leo's jacket, following Marco as we rushed toward the hidden servant stairs leading to the basement.
Before we disappeared into the darkness, I looked back.
Luca was walking slowly down the grand staircase, adjusting his cuffs, walking out the front doors to face the flashing red and blue lights swarming his estate, surrendering his freedom to buy us time.
The underground tunnels were cold and damp, smelling of old earth and mildew. Marco carried Leo effortlessly, while I held the pressure bandage against his side, murmuring reassurances I wasn't sure he could hear.
We reached a heavy steel door at the end of the tunnel. Marco punched in a code, and the door hissed open, revealing a hidden garage holding a nondescript black van.
"Get him in the back," Marco ordered.
We laid Leo on the floor of the van. I knelt beside him, keeping the pressure on the wound.
Marco jumped into the driver's seat and sped out into the rainy night, merging seamlessly into the chaotic Chicago traffic, miles away from the police blockade at the estate.
"Are you still with me, Leo?" I whispered, stroking his damp hair away from his forehead.
Leo opened his eyes slowly. They were cloudy with pain, but the hazel warmth in them was still there.
"I'm here," he rasped. He reached up, his trembling fingers brushing against my tear-stained cheek. "You saved me, Hannah."
"You saved me first," I cried softly, pressing my hand over his. "In the library. You saved my life."
Leo closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips. "Fair trade."
Ten minutes later, we pulled into the secure loading dock of a private, off-the-books medical clinic owned by the Moretti family. A team of surgeons rushed out, pulling Leo onto a gurney and rushing him through a set of double doors into surgery.
I stood in the sterile hallway, covered in his blood, trembling violently as the adrenaline finally crashed.
Marco placed a heavy, comforting hand on my shoulder.
"He's tough, Hannah," Marco said quietly. "He'll pull through."
I nodded, unable to speak, sinking into a plastic waiting room chair.
The next three hours were the longest of my life. I paced the floor, staring at the double doors, praying silently.
Around 4:00 AM, the lead surgeon walked out, untying his surgical mask.
I jumped up, my heart in my throat.
"He's stable," the surgeon announced, offering a tired smile. "The bullet missed the vital organs. We repaired the vascular damage. He's sleeping now, but he's going to be fine."
I burst into tears of pure, overwhelming relief, hugging Marco tightly.
"Can I see him?" I asked eagerly.
"Give him a few hours to wake up," the surgeon advised.
I nodded, collapsing back into the chair, finally allowing myself to breathe.
But as the morning sun began to rise, painting the waiting room in pale golden light, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was an unknown number.
I answered it cautiously. "Hello?"
"Hannah Collins," a smooth, chillingly calm voice said on the other end.
I froze. I didn't recognize the voice, but the tone made my blood run ice-cold.
"Who is this?" I demanded.
"My name is Elias Vance," the man said. "I am a senior advisor for the Commission in New York."
The Commission. The ruling body of the Five Families.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"I understand you are currently at a private clinic with Leo Moretti," Elias stated, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "And I understand Luca Moretti is currently in police custody."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied frantically.
"Please, Miss Collins, let's not play games," Elias sighed. "The Commission has been informed of the events at the Moretti estate tonight. The death of Antonio Moretti's widow, the murder of Antonio himself by his own son, and the destruction of the confession tape."
My breath caught in my throat. How did he know all of that already?
"The Commission views the Moretti family as fundamentally unstable," Elias continued, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "A liability to our operations in the Midwest. We have officially voted to dismantle the Chicago Syndicate."
"You can't do that," I panicked. "Luca will fight you."
"Luca is in a federal holding cell," Elias mocked. "He cannot protect his territory. And he cannot protect his brother."
I stood up, gripping the phone tightly. "If you touch Leo, I swear to God—"
"I have no interest in touching the drunk, Miss Collins," Elias interrupted coldly. "My men are already inside the clinic."
I spun around, looking down the sterile hallway.
Standing at the end of the corridor, holding silenced pistols, were four men in dark suits. Marco was nowhere to be seen.
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"What do you want?" I cried, backing toward the surgical doors.
"I want you, Hannah," Elias smiled through the phone. "Because before Frank Moretti died, he called me. And he told me exactly who your father really was."
