The Glass Shatters At Table Nine

The rain had stopped by the time Elena and Leo reached the neon glow of a 24-hour diner on the outskirts of the highway.

Elena’s uniform was ruined. Her hands were blistered, her feet bleeding inside her shoes. Leo was shivering violently, clutching Elena’s hand like a lifeline.

She pushed through the diner doors. The lone waitress behind the counter took one look at them and reached for the phone.

"Don't," Elena said, her voice sharp and commanding, sounding eerily like her father. "Just a booth in the back and a pot of hot tea."

They slid into a cracked vinyl booth.

Elena used a butter knife from the table to pry open the back casing of the silver pocket watch.

A tiny brass key fell out, clinking against the Formica table.

Along with it fell a tightly folded piece of paper.

Elena smoothed it out. It was a single, one-way train ticket to Montreal. Dated for tonight.

Just one ticket.

Her father hadn't planned on saving Leo. He had only planned on saving her. The passports in the locker were a lie to keep her moving. Frank had prioritized his daughter over his boss's nephew.

"Is my uncle coming?" Leo asked, his teeth chattering as he sipped the tea Elena poured.

Elena looked at the boy. If she took the train, she would survive. But she would be leaving a six-year-old boy in a city controlled by men who wanted him dead.

The animal part of her brain told her to run.

The human part, the part that wanted to heal people, told her to stay.

The diner door chimed.

A man walked in.

He was covered in soot and mud. A deep gash bled freely down the side of his face. His expensive charcoal suit was in tatters, but the terrifying aura around him was fully intact.

Lorenzo Moretti.

Leo dropped his mug and ran across the diner, throwing himself at Lorenzo.

Lorenzo caught him, burying his face in the boy's neck, his chest heaving with exhausted relief.

He carried Leo to the booth and sat across from Elena.

He looked at the brass key and the single train ticket on the table.

"He only bought one," Lorenzo observed quietly.

"He's my father," Elena said defensively. "He wanted me safe."

"Where is Frank?" Lorenzo asked, his blue eyes piercing her.

Elena looked down at her bloody hands. "He stayed behind. He was shot. He told me to tell you he kept his promise."

Lorenzo closed his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw.

"He held them off long enough for me to kill the men guarding the perimeter," Lorenzo said softly. "But Silas got away. And he took Frank alive."

Elena’s head snapped up. "Alive? How do you know?"

Lorenzo reached into his torn jacket and pulled out a heavy, ornate silver rosary.

He placed it on the table next to the train ticket.

"Because Silas left this on the windshield of the car I stole," Lorenzo said. "It belongs to the Costa family. It’s an invitation."

Elena stared at the rosary. "An invitation to what?"

"An execution," Lorenzo said grimly. "Tomorrow at dawn, at the shipping shipyards. They want me to watch them kill the man who protected my nephew. And then they want to kill me."

Lorenzo slid the train ticket across the table toward Elena.

"Take the ticket, Elena. Go to Grand Central. Take the money in the locker and get on the train. I have men waiting outside to escort you."

Elena looked at the ticket. "What about Leo?"

"My men will take him to a secure compound in Sicily," Lorenzo said. He stroked Leo’s hair, his eyes filled with sorrow. "He will be safe. You will be safe."

"And you?" she asked, her voice tight.

"I am going to the shipyards," Lorenzo said.

"You'll die," Elena stated, stating a fact.

"I am the head of the Moretti family," Lorenzo said, his voice turning to steel. "I do not leave my people behind to bleed."

He stood up. He didn't say goodbye. He just looked at her one last time, a silent acknowledgement of the bond forged in the fire.

"Live a good life, Elena," Lorenzo said.

He turned and walked out of the diner.

Elena sat in the booth, staring at the train ticket.

She thought of her father, bleeding in the mud, telling her to run.

She thought of Lorenzo, walking into a trap because he refused to abandon the man who saved his nephew.

Elena slowly reached out.

She didn't pick up the ticket.