Chapter 4 - THE FLAMES WE THOUGHT WERE DEAD
The fire erupted instantly.
A wall of orange flames shot down the stone staircase, roaring like a freight train.
Luca didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed Patrick by his uninjured arm and hoisted him up.
“Move, Emma! Run!”
We sprinted down the tunnel. The heat chased us, licking at our heels. The air grew thick and heavy with black smoke.
I could hear Patrick gasping for air.
“I can’t… breathe,” the old firefighter choked.
“Keep moving!” Luca yelled.
We reached the end of the tunnel. A heavy steel door blocked our path to the garage.
Luca slammed his shoulder against it.
It didn’t budge.
“It’s electronically locked from the security room,” Luca coughed, his eyes watering from the smoke.
The flames were creeping closer. The tunnel was turning into an oven.
I looked at the electronic keypad.
It was completely dark. The power had been cut.
“There’s a manual override,” I coughed, covering my mouth with my apron. “In the old breaker box!”
I dropped to my knees, crawling under the thickest part of the smoke.
I felt along the brick wall until my fingers brushed a rusted metal panel.
I yanked it open.
Inside were a dozen wires and a heavy red lever.
I pulled the lever with all my strength.
CLANG.
The heavy steel door popped open just an inch.
Luca shoved his fingers into the gap and roared, forcing the heavy metal wide open.
We tumbled into the cool, dark expanse of the underground garage just as the tunnel behind us was completely consumed by fire.
Luca slammed the steel door shut, cutting off the flames.
We all collapsed onto the concrete floor, coughing violently.
My lungs burned.
Luca forced himself up.
He didn’t check if his own clothes were scorched. He came straight to me, pulling me to my feet.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his hands gripping my shoulders.
“I’m okay,” I gasped.
He looked at Patrick. The old man was pale, but he nodded.
The garage was silent.
Marcus’s men hadn’t made it down here yet.
Luca walked over to a black armored SUV. He opened the trunk and pulled out a heavy tactical bag.
He tossed me a bulletproof vest.
“Put this on.”
“Mr. Moretti, I’m a housekeeper—”
“You’re the only person I can trust right now,” Luca said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Put it on.”
I slipped the heavy Kevlar over my uniform.
Luca loaded a shotgun and handed a pistol to Patrick.
“We have a two-hour drive to Wisconsin,” Luca said, getting into the driver’s seat. “If we drive fast.”
I climbed into the passenger seat. Patrick got in the back.
Luca hit the garage door opener.
The heavy metal door rumbled upward, revealing the dark, rainy streets of Chicago.
Luca slammed on the gas.
The armored SUV launched out of the garage, tearing through the iron gates of the estate.
Behind us, the upper floors of the Moretti mansion were fully engulfed in flames.
It was happening all over again.
Thirty years later, another fire. Another attempt to bury the past.
As we sped onto the highway, Luca’s phone buzzed on the dashboard.
Unknown Number.
Luca answered it on speaker.
“You missed a hell of a dinner party, Marcus,” Luca said coldly.
A dark, cruel laugh echoed through the car.
But it wasn’t Marcus Bellini’s voice.
It was a voice I recognized.
The voice of a man I had served coffee to earlier that morning.
“I told you he’d survive the fire, Marcus.”
Luca slammed on the brakes so hard the SUV fishtailed.
He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.
“Who is this?” Luca demanded.
The man laughed again.
“You don’t recognize my voice, Luca? That hurts.”
Patrick leaned forward from the backseat, his face draining of all color.
“Vincenzo?” Patrick whispered.
Luca went completely still.
Vincenzo Moretti.
Luca’s father.
The man who had supposedly died of a heart attack five years ago.
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“Hello, Patrick,” Vincenzo said through the phone. “I see you kept the coat. Pity. I should have let you burn in that hallway with my wife.”
TITLE: THE DEAD FATHER WHO PULLED ALL THE STRINGS
