THE LOCKET IN THE WHEELCHAIR

The hiss of the gas was deafening.

My lungs were burning, my vision blurring at the edges as the sedative began to take hold.

I knelt over Luca. He was barely conscious, his breathing shallow and rapid.

“Listen to me,” I shouted over the noise, grabbing his face with both hands. “When I push this, your chest is going to feel like it’s being crushed. You will pass out. Your heart will stop. I need you to fight your way back. Do you hear me? Fight!”

Luca’s dark eyes locked onto mine. There was no fear in them anymore. Only complete trust.

“I trust you, Rebecca,” he breathed.

I didn't hesitate. I couldn't afford to.

I found the vein in his arm. I inserted the needle.

“Pushing Adenosine,” I said out loud, a habit from the ER.

I slammed the plunger down, pushing the medication into his bloodstream as fast as possible.

One second.

Two seconds.

Luca’s back arched. A sharp gasp tore from his throat. His eyes widened in sudden, agonizing shock as the medication hit his heart muscle.

Three seconds.

His body went entirely limp. His head fell back against the concrete floor.

Four seconds.

I pressed my fingers to his carotid artery.

Nothing.

No pulse. No flutter. Total cardiac standstill.

Five seconds.

Click.

A loud, mechanical sound echoed down the corridor.

The biometric lock on Sofia’s iron door flashed green. The emergency medical override had triggered.

I didn't wait. I grabbed the heavy iron handle and hauled the door open.

Fresh air spilled out from the sealed cell.

“Help me drag him in!” I screamed to Sofia.

The frail, white-haired woman rushed forward. Together, we grabbed Luca by the shoulders of his jacket and dragged his heavy, lifeless body across the threshold into the cell.

I slammed the door shut behind us.

We were safe from the gas.

But Luca wasn't breathing.

Six seconds. Seven seconds. Eight seconds.

His heart should have restarted.

“Come back, Luca,” I pleaded, dropping to my knees beside him.

I interlocked my fingers, placed the heel of my hand in the center of his chest, and drove my weight down.

Crack.

“One, two, three, four...” I counted out loud, starting CPR.

Sofia fell to her knees beside me, tears streaming down her face. “He’s dying. My daughter killed him.”

“He is not dying today!” I yelled, pushing harder.

I paused compressions. Checked his neck.

Still nothing.

“Dammit, Luca, fight!” I screamed. I slammed my fist hard against his sternum—a precordial thump.

Suddenly, Luca’s chest heaved.

He sucked in a massive, violent breath of air, coughing violently as his heart kicked back into a chaotic, rapid rhythm.

I slumped back against the wall, trembling uncontrollably.

He was alive.

Luca rolled onto his side, coughing up the residual gas. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and disoriented, clutching his chest.

“You... you actually killed me,” he gasped, wincing in pain.

“And I brought you back,” I shot back, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You're welcome.”

Sofia wept openly, pressing her hand against the concrete wall. “He’s alive. Thank God.”

Luca sat up slowly, leaning against the bed. He looked at the white-haired woman who had been locked away for thirty years. The woman whose daughter had just tried to murder him.

“Sofia,” Luca said, his voice raw. “I’m sorry. I didn't know.”

Sofia shook her head. “You were a boy when they put me here, Luca. Charles and Anthony orchestrated everything. They stole my life. They stole my child.”

“Anna isn't your child anymore,” Luca said coldly. “She belongs to Charles now.”

He looked around the small, windowless room.

“How do we get out of here?”

“There’s a service elevator,” Sofia pointed to a metal grate in the back wall. “It goes directly to the underground parking garage. Charles uses it to transport patients discretely.”

“Can you open it?”

Sofia nodded. “I stole a maintenance key five years ago. I’ve just been waiting for a reason to use it.”

She walked to the grate and pulled a small, rusted iron key from beneath the mattress.

She unlocked the grate, revealing a dark elevator shaft and a small service car.

We climbed in. Luca was still weak, leaning heavily against my shoulder. I didn't mind the weight. In fact, I found myself holding onto him just as tightly.

Sofia pressed the button for the garage.

The elevator groaned and began to rise.

“When we get out of here,” Luca said, his voice low and dangerous, “we go to the police.”

“No,” Sofia said quickly. “Charles owns the local police. He’s the medical examiner for the county. If we go to them, we disappear again.”

“Then what do we do?” I asked.

Sofia reached into her pocket.

She pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden rosary.

“Elizabeth brought me this the day before she died,” Sofia said. “She told me if she didn't survive, this was the key to destroying Charles Bennett.”

Luca took the rosary. He recognized it instantly.

“This was my mother’s,” he said softly.

“Look at the cross,” Sofia instructed.

Luca turned the wooden cross over.

Carved into the back were numbers.

“It’s a bank routing number,” Luca realized.

“Charles didn't just steal power,” Sofia explained. “He stole millions from the Ferraro trust. Elizabeth found the offshore accounts. She hid the account numbers on that rosary.”

Luca’s eyes hardened.

“If we have the numbers, we can freeze the accounts. We can take his money. And without money, Charles has no power.”

The elevator jolted to a stop.

The doors slid open to the dimly lit parking garage.

We stepped out into the damp, cold air.

“My car is on the upper level,” I whispered, supporting Luca.

But as we took three steps toward the ramp, the headlights of a black SUV snapped on, blinding us.

The engine roared to life.

The doors flew open.

Four armed men stepped out, weapons raised.

And standing behind them, leaning on a silver cane, was Dr. Charles Bennett.

He looked at Luca. Then at me. Then, finally, at his own daughter.