Chapter 7 - [THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE]

Vanessa screamed, a high, piercing sound that shattered the remaining tension in the room. The gun slipped from her hand, clattering against the marble floor.
She stumbled backward, clutching her bleeding leg, her red silk dress instantly turning a darker shade of crimson.
Dante moved like lightning. He kicked the gun across the room and slammed Vanessa against the wall, pinning her by the throat.
“Call off your men,” Dante growled.
Vanessa gasped for air, her eyes wide with pain and terror. She managed a weak nod.
I rushed to Rosa, falling to my knees beside her wheelchair. “Nonna, are you okay? Did she hurt you?”
Rosa retracted the hidden blade into her bracelet with a quiet click. She calmly straightened her cardigan. “I’m fine, Claire. Though I think I need a fresh cup of tea. It’s been a very long evening.”
I let out a breathless, half-hysterical laugh, burying my face in her lap. She stroked my hair, her hands steady.
“It’s over,” Dante said, turning back to the room.
“No, it isn’t,” Matteo’s voice echoed.
I turned around. Matteo had backed away toward the grand staircase. His gun was now pointed directly at Dante.
“Drop her, Dante,” Matteo ordered. “The Bellinis still have men outside. If we hand Vanessa over, we can negotiate a truce.”
Dante didn’t let go of Vanessa. “There is no truce with rats, Matteo. You’re holding onto a sinking ship.”
“It’s my ship!” Matteo shouted, losing his composure. “I built this! I earned it!”
“You earned nothing,” a new voice said.
The heavy mahogany doors swung open again.
Standing there was an older man in a tailored gray suit. His silver hair was slicked back, and he held a wooden cane. Behind him stood half a dozen men wearing federal windbreakers.
FBI.
Matteo’s face went completely slack. He dropped his gun.
“Agent Harris,” Dante said, finally releasing Vanessa. She slid to the floor, weeping.
I stared at Dante in confusion. “You brought the FBI?”
Dante shook his head. “No, Claire. I didn’t.”
The older man, Agent Harris, walked slowly into the room. He didn’t look at Matteo. He didn’t look at Dante.
He walked straight over to me.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar object. A silver locket. Identical to the one I was holding.
“Your mother says hello, Claire,” Agent Harris said softly. “She’s been waiting a long time to bring these people down.”
My heart stopped.
From behind the wall of federal agents, a woman stepped forward. She had graying hair, but her eyes were exactly as I remembered them.
May you like
“Mom?” I whispered.
TITLE: THE GHOST FROM THE PAST