Chapter 6 - The Grenade and the Choice
The small, olive-drab metal sphere bounced twice on the hardwood floor, rolling to a stop perfectly between the four of us.
Time seemed to completely freeze.
I heard the hiss of the fuse. Two seconds. Maybe three.
“If I can’t have the empire, none of you can!”
Vanessa’s manic laughter echoed from the hallway as she turned to run, but she didn’t make it far.
Luca moved with terrifying, instantaneous instinct. He didn’t dive for cover. He didn’t run. He lunged directly at the grenade.
But Alexei was faster.
The Russian-trained assassin—the son I had just found—kicked the grenade with the precision of a professional striker. The explosive flew through the shattered doorway, bouncing off the far wall of the hallway, directly into Vanessa’s path.
“Get down!” Alexei roared, throwing his massive body over me and Rebecca, pinning us to the floor of the closet.
Luca dove behind the heavy oak bedframe.
BOOM.
The explosion was deafening, a concussive shockwave that shattered the remaining windows and blew the bedroom door entirely off its hinges. Plaster rained from the ceiling, and the smell of cordite and burning wood filled the air.
Vanessa’s screams were abruptly, violently cut short.
My ears were ringing so loudly I couldn't hear myself scream. Dust choked the room, turning the dim red emergency lighting into a hellish, swirling fog.
Alexei slowly lifted his weight off us. He coughed, shaking debris from his tactical gear.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, looking at me, his blue-gray eyes frantic with a protective instinct he clearly didn't understand.
“No,” I gasped, clutching Rebecca, who was trembling violently against my good shoulder. “We’re okay.”
Luca slowly stood up from behind the ruined bedframe. He was covered in plaster dust, a trickle of blood running down his forehead, but his dark eyes were locked entirely on Alexei.
The mafia Don and the Russian-trained assassin stared at each other across the destroyed bedroom.
“You saved them,” Luca said, his voice raspy, lowering his weapons.
“I saved my mother,” Alexei corrected coldly, his thick Russian accent grating against the silence. “Don’t mistake it for loyalty to you, Moretti.”
Luca didn't flinch. “Victor Volkov raised you to kill me.”
“Victor raised me to believe this family abandoned me,” Alexei countered, his jaw tightening. “He told me I was garbage. He told me the only way to earn my life was to wipe the Moretti name from this city.”
He looked at me, a profound, agonizing betrayal breaking through his hardened exterior.
“But he didn't tell me I had a twin sister,” Alexei whispered, looking at Rebecca. “And he didn't tell me my mother looked at me like that.”
I reached out, my trembling fingers gently touching his cheek. He flinched slightly, unaccustomed to affection, but he didn't pull away.
“They stole you,” I cried, tears carving clean lines through the dust on my face. “If I had known you existed, I would have burned the city to find you.”
Alexei closed his eyes, leaning into my touch for just a fraction of a second. Twenty-eight years of brainwashing shattered completely against the undeniable truth of a mother’s love.
“Touching reunion,” a booming, amplified voice echoed from outside.
We all looked toward the shattered window.
The Volkov boss was still in the courtyard, speaking through a megaphone.
“Alexei! You have failed your mission!” Victor Volkov’s voice roared. “The compound is surrounded! Bring me the Don’s head, or you die with them!”
Alexei opened his eyes. The vulnerability vanished instantly, replaced by the cold, lethal killer he had been trained to be.
He stood up, drawing two combat knives from his belt.
“He lied to me,” Alexei said quietly. “For twenty-eight years.”
He turned to Luca.
“You have a secondary armory in the basement?” Alexei asked.
Luca nodded slowly. “Yes. Behind the wine cellar.”
“Get them down there,” Alexei ordered, gesturing to me and Rebecca. “Lock the blast doors. Do not open them until I come for you.”
“I’m not hiding while you fight my war, kid,” Luca stated, picking up his dropped pistols.
Alexei glared at him. “It’s not your war anymore, Uncle. It’s mine.”
Before Luca could argue, Alexei vaulted through the shattered bedroom window, dropping onto the portico roof below, disappearing into the darkness.
“Luca, don't let him go alone!” I panicked, grabbing his arm. “He’s one man! They have an army down there!”
“He’s a Volkov Ghost, Catherine,” Luca said grimly, recognizing the tactical gear Alexei wore. “He’s been trained by the Spetsnaz. He’s not one man. He’s a weapon.”
Luca grabbed Marco by his collar, hauling the unconscious security chief to his feet. Marco groaned, shaking his head as he came to.
“Marco, get them to the bunker,” Luca ordered. “Now.”
“I’m staying with you,” Marco grunted, retrieving his assault rifle from the floor.
“That’s an order!” Luca roared.
He didn't wait for a response. Luca ran out of the bedroom, heading toward the grand staircase to join the firefight.
Marco cursed in Italian, then grabbed my good arm. “Come on, Catherine. Move!”
We scrambled out of the ruined bedroom. The hallway was a warzone. Smoke hung heavy in the air, and the bodies of several Volkov mercenaries littered the marble floor. Vanessa’s body lay near the staircase, unrecognizable from the blast. I looked away, pulling Rebecca tight against me.
We ran down the back servant stairs, avoiding the main foyer where the gunfire was heaviest.
As we reached the kitchen, the back door was suddenly blown off its hinges.
Four heavily armed Russian mercenaries stormed in, their flashlights piercing the smoke.
“There!” one of them shouted, spotting us.
Marco pushed me and Rebecca behind the heavy granite island and opened fire. The kitchen erupted into chaos, bullets shattering plates and tearing through the stainless steel appliances.
Marco dropped two of the men, but his rifle clicked empty.
The remaining two Russians advanced, raising their weapons.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my body around Rebecca.
But the fatal shots never came.
A shadow dropped from the kitchen skylight, landing silently behind the two mercenaries.
It was Alexei.
He moved like a phantom. Before the men could turn, he drove his knives into the backs of their necks, dropping them instantly without a single sound.
He stood over their bodies, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a terrifying adrenaline.
“I said go to the bunker,” Alexei snapped at Marco, his Russian accent sharp with annoyance.
“We got delayed,” Marco grunted, tossing his empty rifle and pulling a pistol.
Alexei looked at me. His fierce expression softened just enough for me to see the boy underneath the killer.
“Go, Mom,” Alexei whispered.
He turned and sprinted out the back door, heading back into the bloodbath in the courtyard.
Marco dragged us down the basement stairs, pushing past the wine cellar, and entered the code on a massive steel blast door. We rushed inside, and the heavy door slammed shut behind us, locking with a definitive, hollow echo.
The bunker was silent. Safe.
I collapsed onto a cot, trembling violently, pulling Rebecca into my arms.
“He called me Mom,” I sobbed, the tears flowing freely now.
Rebecca hugged me back, crying softly. “He’s going to be okay. He has to be.”
We sat in the dark for what felt like hours. The muffled sounds of explosions and gunfire above us slowly faded, replaced by an eerie, terrifying silence.
Who won?
Were Luca and Alexei dead?
Suddenly, the keypad on the blast door beeped.
The heavy steel door began to slowly groan open.
Marco raised his pistol, aiming squarely at the gap. “Who is it?”
A figure stepped into the dim light of the bunker.
He was covered in blood, his tactical gear shredded, breathing heavily. He held a massive, silver object in his right hand.
It was Alexei.
He walked slowly toward me, exhausted but victorious.
He dropped the silver object onto the floor at my feet.
It was a heavy, custom-made silver cane. The one Victor Volkov always carried. The cane was covered in blood.
“It’s over,” Alexei said, his voice raspy. “Victor is dead.”
I scrambled up and threw my arms around my son, sobbing uncontrollably. Alexei hesitated, then slowly wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my shoulder, letting the ruthless assassin melt away.
But as I held him, the bunker door opened fully.
Luca stood in the doorway. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't relieved.
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He held his gun raised, aiming it directly at Alexei’s back.
“Step away from him, Catherine,” Luca ordered coldly.
