Chapter 8 - THE BROTHER'S REVENGE
The silence in the hospital room was suffocating.
Julian Moretti’s voice sent a spike of pure terror straight into my chest. This was the man who had ordered Vanessa to abandon Elias. The man who had ruled Chicago with absolute terror until Adrian orchestrated his arrest two years ago to save the family from complete self-destruction.
“How are you calling me, Julian?” Adrian demanded, his voice dropping into a lethal, terrifying register.
“I have friends in high places, Adrian. You know that,” Julian laughed. It was a cold, hollow sound. “You really thought you could just burn the syndicate down? That the commission would let you walk away with the money and play house with a maid?”
“The syndicate is gone,” Adrian stated flatly. “The accounts are frozen. The capos are in custody. It’s over.”
“Not quite,” Julian purred.
A loud crash echoed through the speaker. A woman screamed.
My heart stopped.
“Margaret!” I gasped.
“Ah, the observant maid is awake,” Julian sneered. “Yes. Margaret Bellini. The old woman who ruined Vanessa’s play for the throne. She’s sitting right here with me in her living room. My men paid her a visit ten minutes ago.”
Adrian stood up abruptly, his chair scraping violently against the linoleum floor.
“If you touch her, Julian, I will end you.”
“You don't have the manpower anymore, little brother. You fired them all, remember?” Julian mocked. “You have thirty minutes. Bring me the offshore account ledgers—the real ones, not the decoys you gave the feds—or the old woman dies. And then, I send my men to finish the job Vanessa started at the hospital.”
The line went dead.
Adrian stared at the phone, his face a mask of cold, calculating fury. He had tried to walk away from the violence, but the violence wasn't done with him.
He looked at Elias, who was clutching my good hand, terrified by the sudden tension in the room.
“Stay here,” Adrian ordered, his eyes locking onto mine. “Lock the door. Do not let anyone in except my personal guard, Leo.”
“Adrian, you can’t go alone,” I pleaded, trying to sit up, only to be forced back down by a wave of agonizing pain from my shoulder. “It’s a trap.”
“I know it is,” Adrian said smoothly. He reached under his black t-shirt and pulled a heavy, suppressed handgun from a concealed holster at his waist. He checked the magazine with a terrifying familiarity.
“Margaret saved my son. I’m not letting my brother kill her.”
He leaned down, pressing a firm, desperate kiss to the top of my head, lingering for just a second.
“Keep him safe,” Adrian whispered.
Then he was gone, the heavy hospital door closing behind him with a final, echoing thud.
I was left alone in the room with Elias, the heart monitor beeping erratically beside me.
Ten minutes passed in agonizing silence. I used my good hand to lock the deadbolt on the door. I pulled Elias into the bed with me, wrapping my uninjured arm around him, hiding us beneath the thick hospital blankets.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Not one set of boots. Multiple.
My blood ran cold.
A heavy fist pounded on the door.
“Open up! Hospital security!” a gruff voice yelled.
I didn't answer. I held my breath, pulling Elias tighter against my chest. Hospital security didn't pound on doors like they were executing a raid.
“Kick it in,” a second voice ordered quietly.
A massive force slammed against the heavy wooden door. It shuddered on its hinges.
They were breaching the room. Julian hadn't waited thirty minutes. He had sent a hit squad to the hospital while he distracted Adrian.
The door splintered. One more kick, and they would be inside.
I looked frantically around the sterile room. There were no weapons. Just IV poles and plastic pitchers.
The door exploded inward, the deadbolt shattering.
Two massive men in cheap suits stormed into the room, guns raised.
I squeezed my eyes shut, holding Elias as tight as I could, waiting for the end.
But the gunshot didn't come from the men in suits.
It came from the hallway.
The first man dropped instantly, a bullet tearing through his shoulder. The second man spun around, wildly firing into the corridor.
Another suppressed shot echoed, and the second man collapsed to the linoleum floor, groaning in pain.
Silence descended on the room once again.
I slowly opened my eyes, peering over the edge of the blanket.
Standing in the ruined doorway, holding a smoking handgun, was Margaret Bellini.
She looked entirely unbothered, her gray hair slightly messy, her worn brown coat damp from the rain.
“Margaret?” I gasped, staring at the sixty-year-old woman in absolute shock.
She stepped over the groaning hitmen and lowered her weapon.
“Julian Moretti is an arrogant fool,” Margaret said calmly, picking up my plastic water pitcher and taking a drink. “He thought two local thugs could hold me hostage in my own home. I grew up on the South Side, Olivia. I’ve survived worse men than him.”
“Where is Adrian?” I panicked.
Margaret smiled a thin, grim smile. “Adrian is currently introducing his brother to the reality of his new situation.”
Thirty minutes later, Adrian burst into the hospital room, breathless and covered in rain. When he saw the two unconscious hitmen zip-tied on the floor, and Margaret sitting casually in the plastic chair reading a magazine, he froze.
He looked at me, unharmed in the bed with Elias.
A massive, overwhelming wave of relief washed over his face.
“Julian?” Adrian asked Margaret, his voice tight.
“Taken care of,” Margaret said, flipping a page. “I called in a few favors from the old neighborhood. Julian won't be calling anyone for a very long time.”
Adrian walked over to the bed. He didn't care that Margaret was watching. He didn't care that there were hitmen tied up on the floor.
He leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn't a desperate kiss like before. It was deep, passionate, and filled with a fierce, unbreakable promise.
May you like
When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with tears.
“It’s over,” Adrian whispered, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s finally over.”
