Chapter 8 - THE WOODEN ROSARY
Vincenzo’s cold, lifeless eyes shifted from the rusted lockbox to my face.
“You look exactly like her,” Vincenzo sneered, his lips curling in disgust. “Sofia was stubborn, just like your mother. I told her to take the blue ticket and disappear. But she had to go digging.”
Gabriel slowly stood up, placing himself entirely between me and his uncle. His imposing frame shielded me completely.
“You killed my father,” Gabriel said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
Vincenzo laughed softly, pressing the barrel of his gun harder against Carlo’s temple. Carlo squeezed his eyes shut, weeping silently.
“Antonio was weak, Gabriel,” Vincenzo said. “He wanted to legitimize the family. He wanted to leave the life. I did what was necessary to protect our power. Just like I protected it from my pathetic sister when she ran away with a nobody.”
Vincenzo extended his free hand. “Give me the ledger, Gabriel. It’s the only proof. Give it to me, and I’ll let you and the waitress walk away.”
Gabriel didn't move. “You’ll kill us the second I hand it over.”
“Perhaps,” Vincenzo smiled. “But if you don't, I’ll kill Carlo. Then I’ll kill Marco. Then I’ll send a team to the penthouse and kill Carmela and your precious little boy.”
My heart stopped. Leo.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. He looked down at the documents in his hand, then slowly began to lower them toward the floor.
“Don't do it, Gabriel,” I whispered desperately, grabbing his arm.
“I have no choice, Elina,” he replied, his eyes dark with defeat.
As Gabriel bent down to place the ledger on the floor, he subtly shifted his jacket, revealing the handle of his holstered gun. It was a silent message. Get ready.
But before Gabriel could draw his weapon, Marco suddenly lunged forward.
Marco didn't go for his gun. He threw his entire body weight at the rotting wooden support beam separating the bedroom from the hallway.
The ancient, termite-eaten wood splintered and collapsed with a deafening crash. A massive section of the ceiling caved in directly over Vincenzo and his men, showering them in plaster, dust, and heavy wooden planks.
Vincenzo shouted in surprise, dropping his gun as a heavy beam struck his shoulder. Carlo scrambled away into the dust cloud.
“Go!” Gabriel roared, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the fire escape window.
We shattered the glass and climbed out into the freezing rain. Marco and Carlo followed close behind as Vincenzo’s men began firing blindly into the room.
We scrambled down the rusted metal stairs, sprinting toward the armored SUV waiting in the alley.
We threw ourselves inside, and Marco hit the gas, tearing away from the tenement just as Vincenzo’s men burst out the back door.
I collapsed against the leather seats, gasping for air, clutching the rusted lockbox to my chest.
Gabriel was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, but his eyes were blazing with a newfound, lethal clarity.
“He confessed,” Gabriel said, pulling his encrypted phone from his pocket. “He admitted to killing my father, your mother, and Sofia.”
“Who are you calling?” Carlo asked, wrapping a cloth around his bleeding head.
“The Commission,” Gabriel replied coldly. “Vincenzo thinks this ledger is the only proof. But the five families don't need a ledger. They need a confession. And my phone has been recording an open line to the Commission heads since we walked into that apartment.”
My eyes widened. Gabriel had orchestrated the entire confrontation.
By the time we reached the safehouse, the war was already over.
The Commission, outraged by Vincenzo’s betrayal and the murder of a sitting boss, had immediately issued a hit. Vincenzo and his loyalists were surrounded and eliminated by the combined forces of the five families before dawn.
The threat was gone.
We walked into the penthouse as the sun began to rise over the city.
Carmela was asleep on the sofa, with little Leo curled safely on her chest.
Gabriel looked at his son, then turned to me. The hard, ruthless mafia boss had completely vanished, replaced by a man who looked overwhelmingly tired, but finally at peace.
“It’s over,” Gabriel whispered.
He walked over to the coffee table and opened the rusted lockbox one last time to examine the ledger.
As he pulled the papers out, something heavy shifted at the bottom of the box.
I reached inside.
Hidden beneath the false bottom of the metal box was an old, intricately carved wooden rosary.
I pulled it out. The wooden beads were smooth from years of prayer.
Gabriel stared at the rosary, his breath catching in his throat.
“That... that belonged to my mother,” Gabriel whispered, taking it from my hands.
Attached to the silver crucifix was a small, tightly folded piece of paper.
May you like
I opened it. The handwriting belonged to my mother.
If you are reading this, my beautiful Elina, you have survived. The nightmare is over. Go to the place where the white roses grow. I left you one final gift.
