Chapter 7 - THE SYRINGE AT MY MOTHER’S THROAT
Luca almost crashed the car.
He stared at the phone screen, his breathing ragged.
Elena. His mother.
She looked exactly like the woman he remembered, just older, her hair completely silver. She was unconscious, her head slumped to the side.
Marcus Bellini’s thumb rested on the plunger of the syringe.
If you walk into the hotel, she dies.
“He’s watching the entrances,” Luca gritted out, tossing the phone onto the dashboard. “Vincenzo owns the hotel security team.”
“Then we don’t use the doors,” I said immediately.
Luca looked at me.
“The Lakeshore Hotel was built in the 1920s,” I said, my mind racing. “Before I worked for you, I cleaned rooms there. There’s an old laundry chute that runs from the basement directly to the fourth floor.”
Luca’s eyes sharpened. “Can it hold our weight?”
“It holds three hundred pounds of wet linens. It’ll hold us.”
We ditched the sports car two blocks from the hotel, pulling into a dark alley.
The rain was coming down in sheets now, soaking us to the bone.
We moved like ghosts through the shadows.
The service entrance at the back of the hotel was guarded by two men in dark suits. Syndicate soldiers.
Luca didn’t use his gun. It was too loud.
He moved with terrifying precision. He slipped up behind the first guard, wrapping a heavy arm around his throat and dragging him into the dark. A sharp crack, and the man dropped.
The second guard turned, reaching for his weapon.
I swung the heavy butt of the shotgun into his temple. He collapsed in a heap.
Luca looked at me, slightly surprised.
“My mom taught me to swing a bat,” I whispered.
We dragged the bodies behind a dumpster and slipped through the metal door.
The basement was humming with the sound of massive washing machines.
I led Luca to the back wall.
I unlatched the heavy steel door of the laundry chute.
It was pitch black inside, smelling of bleach and old cotton. A thick, industrial cable ran up the center of the shaft.
“I’ll go first,” Luca said.
He slung his weapon over his shoulder and grabbed the cable, hauling his massive frame upward with brutal efficiency.
I followed right behind him.
My arms screamed in pain, my muscles burning with every pull. But the image of my mother locked in that glass room fueled me.
We climbed for what felt like an eternity.
First floor. Second floor. Third floor.
We reached the small access door for the fourth floor.
Luca carefully pushed it open.
The hallway was empty. Luxurious red carpet and brass fixtures.
We climbed out, our clothes covered in lint and grease.
Room 412 was at the end of the hall.
Two armed men stood outside the door.
Luca signaled for me to stay back.
He pulled a smoke grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin, and rolled it down the thick carpet.
Hsssss.
Thick, gray smoke billowed instantly, blinding the hallway.
“What the—” one guard yelled, coughing.
Luca stepped out of the chute.
He fired two silenced shots. Pew. Pew.
Two heavy thuds echoed through the smoke.
We ran to the door of Room 412.
It was locked.
Luca didn’t bother with the handle. He took three steps back and kicked the solid oak door directly beside the deadbolt.
The wood splintered violently. The door flew open.
We burst into the room, weapons raised.
Marcus Bellini spun around, panic flashing across his face.
He immediately jammed the syringe toward Elena’s neck.
“Drop the guns!” Marcus screamed.
Luca didn’t drop his gun.
He didn’t even blink.
He fired a single shot.
The bullet shattered Marcus Bellini’s wrist.
Marcus shrieked, dropping the syringe. It rolled across the carpet.
Luca crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed Marcus by the throat and slammed him against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
“Where is my father?” Luca roared.
“He’s… he’s in the vault!” Marcus choked, blood pouring from his wrist.
I ran to Elena.
I quickly unstrapped her wrists from the chair. She was completely unresponsive.
I picked up the syringe from the floor and read the label.
Vecuronium Bromide.
A paralytic. It stops the muscles, including the lungs, if given in a high enough dose.
“Luca!” I yelled. “She’s not breathing properly! Her lips are turning blue!”
Luca dropped Marcus, letting the man crumple to the floor.
He dropped to his knees beside his mother.
Thirty years of grief, anger, and loss washed over his face as he looked at her.
“Mom,” he whispered, his hands trembling as he touched her pale face. “Mom, please.”
I ran to the hotel emergency kit mounted on the wall. I smashed the glass.
I remembered the counter-agent my mother had taught me about.
Sugammadex.
I found a vial, drew it into a clean syringe, and ran back.
“Hold her arm steady!” I told Luca.
I injected the clear liquid into Elena’s IV line.
We waited.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.
Elena suddenly gasped, drawing in a massive, ragged breath.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She looked confused, terrified.
Then, her eyes focused on Luca.
She reached a trembling hand up and touched his face.
“Luca?” she whispered, her voice weak but clear.
Tears spilled from Luca’s eyes. The ruthless mafia boss broke completely.
“I’m here, Mom,” he cried, burying his face in her hand. “I’m right here.”
“You have your grandfather’s eyes,” she smiled weakly. “But you have my heart.”
It was beautiful.
But it was interrupted by the sound of a slow, mocking clap.
A secret door behind the bookshelf swung open.
Vincenzo Moretti stepped into the room.
He was holding a massive ledger in one hand, and a heavy revolver in the other.
“Very touching,” Vincenzo sneered.
He raised the revolver and pointed it directly at Elena’s head.
May you like
“But the reunion ends here.”
TITLE: THE BULLET MEANT FOR A MOTHER
