Chapter 5 - THE BETRAYAL IN THE FOG
“You orchestrated this?” Luca repeated, his voice dangerously calm. He didn’t lower his weapon. He kept it aimed squarely at the center of Marcus’s chest.
“Sophia is a terrified little girl playing mob boss,” Marcus sneered, taking a slow step forward. The ferry groaned as it hit the open water, pitching slightly in the rough waves. “She came to me three years ago when she realized Matteo was going to expose her. I helped her arrange the crash. I helped her bury the bodies.”
I gasped, pressing my hands over my mouth.
“You killed my wife,” Luca whispered, the words carrying a crushing weight of grief and absolute rage.
“Elena was weak,” Marcus spat. “She was going to leave you, Luca. She was going to take the boy and disappear. Sophia wanted the crown, and I wanted a boss who wasn’t blinded by a housewife.”
“And Matteo?” Luca demanded.
“Matteo caught us tampering with the brakes of Elena’s car,” Marcus confessed, a cruel smile touching his lips. “He tried to stop us. We put a bullet in his gut and dumped him in the river.”
The heavy gold bracelet felt like a dead weight in Luca’s free hand.
“Matteo is dead,” Luca realized, the final thread of hope snapping.
“He’s been dead for three years,” Marcus laughed. “But you’re so desperate for your brother’s ghost, you followed a breadcrumb trail right into my trap. I used the old ferry ticket from his jacket. I planted the locket on Sophia to frame her and get you isolated.”
“And my mother?” I cried, stepping out slightly from behind Luca. “Where is my mother?!”
Marcus looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
“Your mother was the only loose end,” Marcus said. “Elena confided in her. She gave your mother the boy to hide before the crash. But don’t worry, maid. Your mother is currently sleeping very peacefully at the bottom of the harbor.”
A raw, agonizing scream tore from my throat.
The world went entirely black for a fraction of a second. My mother. The woman I had scrubbed floors for. The woman I had given my entire life to protect. She was gone.
“NO!” I shrieked, lunging forward.
“Mia, down!” Luca roared.
Marcus raised the shotgun to fire.
But I didn’t drop to the ground. Driven by pure, blinding grief, I reached into the pocket of my black dress.
When Marcus dumped Sophia’s purse on the dining room table, I had picked up the small, heavy glass perfume bottle that rolled onto the floor.
I hurled it with every ounce of strength I had directly at Marcus’s face.
The heavy glass struck him squarely on the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch.
Marcus screamed, stumbling backward and firing the shotgun blindly into the ceiling. Debris rained down on us.
Luca didn’t hesitate.
He moved with the terrifying speed of a predator. He closed the distance before Marcus could pump the shotgun again, grabbing the barrel with his left hand and driving the butt of his pistol violently into Marcus’s jaw with his right.
Marcus collapsed to the vinyl floor, completely unconscious.
Luca stood over him, chest heaving, his eyes burning with a dark, violent fire.
He looked back at me. I was on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably into my hands.
Luca walked over, holstered his weapon, and knelt beside me. He didn’t offer empty words. He didn’t tell me it was going to be okay.
He reached out and placed his large, warm hand on the back of my head, pulling me against his chest while I wept for my mother.
“I will make them pay, Mia,” Luca vowed quietly, his voice vibrating against my ear. “I swear to you on my son’s life, I will burn their world to ashes.”
After a minute, Luca pulled back. The mafia boss had returned.
“We need to stop this boat,” Luca said, standing up. “Marcus wasn’t planning to drive it himself. There’s someone else in the wheelhouse.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, forcing the grief down into a tight, hard knot in my stomach. I stood up, nodding.
We left Marcus tied to a metal pole using his own tactical belt and climbed the narrow metal stairs to the captain’s wheelhouse.
Luca kicked the door open, his gun raised.
The small room was empty. The steering wheel was locked on autopilot.
But sitting on the navigation console was an old, tarnished silver pocket watch.
Luca lowered his gun, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. He walked over and picked it up.
“This is Matteo’s watch,” Luca said, his voice barely a whisper. “He bought it in Florence ten years ago.”
“But Marcus said Matteo is dead,” I said, my voice hoarse from crying.
Luca popped the latch on the watch.
The hands were frozen at exactly 3:00.
Tucked inside the cover was a tiny, folded piece of paper.
Luca pulled it out and unfolded it.
He stared at it for a long time. The tension in his shoulders slowly uncoiled, replaced by absolute, electrifying shock.
“Luca?” I asked gently. “What does it say?”
May you like
Luca turned to look at me, a wild, desperate hope igniting in his dark eyes.
“Marcus lied,” Luca smiled. “Matteo is alive. And he has your mother.”
