Chapter 8 - THE TRAIN TICKET
The bullet tore through my left shoulder.
The force of the impact spun me around in the air, slamming me hard into the concrete wall beside Adrian.
A blinding, white-hot pain exploded through my body. The handgun slipped from my fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor.
I collapsed, gasping for air, clutching my shoulder. Warm, thick blood immediately began pouring through my fingers.
"Natalie!" Adrian roared.
The sight of me falling seemed to ignite something primal and terrifying in the wounded mafia boss.
Ignoring the knife wound in his own side, Adrian moved with terrifying speed.
Before Marcus could adjust his aim for a second shot, Adrian lunged forward. He grabbed the barrel of the assault rifle, shoving it violently toward the ceiling.
A burst of gunfire shredded the overhead lights, plunging the panic room back into dim, emergency red.
Adrian didn't stop. He drove his forehead directly into Marcus's face, crushing the traitor's nose. As Marcus staggered backward, dropping the rifle, Adrian swept his leg, sending Marcus crashing to the floor.
Adrian didn't give him a chance to recover. He dropped his full weight onto Marcus, his massive hands wrapping tight around the security chief's throat.
"You die," Adrian hissed, his eyes burning with absolute, murderous fury. "For everything."
I watched through blurry, fading vision as Marcus struggled, his face turning purple, before finally going completely still.
Adrian released his grip, chest heaving, his hands covered in blood.
He immediately scrambled over to me.
"Natalie," he breathed, pressing his heavy hands hard against the bullet wound in my shoulder. "Stay awake. Look at me."
"It hurts," I whimpered, the edges of the room turning black.
"I know," Adrian said, his voice cracking. He looked over his shoulder. "Leo!"
Leo crawled out from under the steel desk. The little boy was completely unharmed, though tears were streaming down his face.
He ran over and dropped to his knees beside me, grabbing my free hand and holding it tight against his small chest.
"Mom," Leo whispered.
It was the second word he had spoken in four years.
And he was saying it to me.
A tear slipped down my cheek. I squeezed his tiny hand as hard as I could.
Suddenly, the sounds of heavy boots flooded the sub-basement corridor.
"Boss!"
Rocco, Adrian's loyal lieutenant, burst into the ruined panic room with a dozen heavily armed Lorenzo guards.
"Secure the perimeter!" Rocco yelled, taking in the carnage. He pointed at the wounded Silvio Moretti, who was trying to crawl away. "Cuff him. The Morettis outside are surrendering or dead."
Rocco rushed over to us, dropping a medical kit. "We have an ambulance waiting at the secret exit, boss."
"Get her on a stretcher, now," Adrian ordered, refusing to take his hands off my wound.
As the paramedics rushed in and carefully lifted me onto the stretcher, something fell out of Marcus's ruined jacket pocket.
Rocco picked it up.
"Boss," Rocco said, handing it to Adrian.
Adrian looked at it.
It was a pair of train tickets. First class. One way to Montreal.
Dated for tomorrow night.
Answer One: Marcus had planned his escape meticulously. He was going to take the Moretti payout and disappear before the dust settled.
But Adrian flipped the tickets over.
There were two names printed on them.
Marcus Vale.
And Victoria Lorenzo.
Adrian’s breath caught.
Victoria. Adrian’s younger sister. The one who had moved to Paris three years ago, claiming she wanted nothing to do with the family business.
Open Two: Why was Marcus escaping with Adrian's sister?
Reversal: The betrayal went deeper than anyone realized. Victoria hadn't run from the family; she had orchestrated its downfall from the shadows with her lover, Marcus.
Adrian crushed the tickets in his fist, his eyes hardening with a terrifying promise of future vengeance.
But right now, he only cared about one thing.
He walked beside my stretcher as they rolled me rapidly through the dark tunnels toward the waiting ambulance.
"You're going to be okay, Natalie," Adrian said, his bloody hand holding onto the edge of the stretcher.
"Adrian," I whispered, my voice fading to a barely audible rasp. "The photograph... I'm your niece."
Adrian looked down at me, his fierce, dark eyes softening with a profound, unconditional loyalty.
"You are a Lorenzo," Adrian said firmly. "You are blood. And nobody touches my family."
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The darkness finally pulled me under. The last thing I felt was Leo's small hand gripping my fingers.
Then, the world went completely black, and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor faded into silence.
