Chapter 7 - THE LEATHER JOURNAL
Alessandro hit Lorenzo with the force of a freight train.
The heavy leather journal flew from Lorenzo’s hands, skittering across the concrete floor.
Lorenzo’s pistol fired wildly as he fell, the bullet sparking off the stone wall inches from where Sofia was hiding.
I screamed, throwing my body over the little girl, covering her ears.
Alessandro didn’t hesitate. He didn’t fight like a gentleman. He fought like a man protecting his child.
He drove his elbow into Lorenzo’s face, a sickening crunch of bone echoing in the small vault.
But Lorenzo was younger, faster. He twisted violently, driving a knee into Alessandro’s ribs and scrambling for the dropped gun.
“Get the journal, Clara!” Alessandro roared, grappling with his brother.
I scrambled across the floor, my fingers desperately clawing for the leather book.
I grabbed it just as Lorenzo kicked Alessandro backward.
Lorenzo leveled the gun at me.
“Drop it, you stupid maid!” Lorenzo screamed, blood pouring from his broken nose.
I froze, clutching the journal to my chest.
Answer One: Alessandro had survived the ambush upstairs and used the ventilation shafts to track us down.
But he was injured. I could see a dark stain of blood spreading across the white fabric of his dress shirt.
“Don’t shoot her, Lorenzo,” Alessandro gasped, struggling to his feet. “It’s me you want.”
“I want you all dead!” Lorenzo spat, turning the gun back to his brother.
Open One: Could Alessandro survive a point-blank shot?
Open Two: How do we get out of a locked vault with a madman?
I looked around frantically for a weapon.
There was nothing. Just the empty wooden music box and the stone walls.
Then I looked at the glass vial in my left hand.
The antidote. My father’s life.
“Lorenzo!” I yelled.
He didn’t look at me. He kept the gun aimed at Alessandro’s chest.
“Say goodbye to the great Don,” Lorenzo sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
I threw the thick leather journal directly at Lorenzo’s head as hard as I could.
The heavy book struck his arm, knocking his aim off by an inch.
The gun fired.
The bullet grazed Alessandro’s shoulder, tearing through the fabric but missing his heart.
Before Lorenzo could correct his aim, Alessandro lunged forward, grabbing Lorenzo’s wrist and twisting it violently.
The gun dropped to the floor.
The two brothers locked into a brutal, bloody fistfight, slamming into the concrete walls.
I crawled over to Sofia, pulling her back into the darkest corner of the room.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, though my own tears were blinding me. “He’s going to win. Your daddy is going to win.”
But Lorenzo pulled a hidden combat knife from his ankle holster.
Reversal: Lorenzo was prepared for close-quarters combat. Alessandro was already bleeding out.
Lorenzo slashed the blade, catching Alessandro across the stomach.
Alessandro grunted in agony, falling to one knee.
Lorenzo stood over him, raising the knife for the killing blow.
“No!” I screamed, surging forward.
I didn’t have a weapon. I only had the glass vial.
I slammed the heavy glass vial into the side of Lorenzo’s neck.
The glass didn’t break, but the impact stunned him long enough for Alessandro to recover.
Alessandro grabbed Lorenzo by the collar, lifted him off his feet, and slammed him backward into the solid stone pedestal.
Lorenzo’s head hit the stone with a sickening crack.
He slumped to the floor, the knife slipping from his hand. He was unconscious.
The vault fell silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the Don.
Alessandro leaned against the pedestal, clutching his bleeding stomach.
I rushed to him, tearing my apron off and pressing it hard against his wound to stop the bleeding.
“You came for us,” I cried, pressing my hands over his.
Alessandro looked down at me, his dark eyes softening despite the immense pain.
“I told you,” he whispered. “You protect what is mine. I protect what is yours.”
He looked over my shoulder.
“Get the journal, Clara.”
I turned around.
The leather journal was lying open on the floor, its pages illuminated by the harsh overhead light.
I walked over and picked it up.
I looked at the pages.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
The pages were entirely blank.
Cliffhanger: There was no blackmail ledger. There were no secrets.
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The only thing written in the entire book was a single sentence on the first page, written in Elias Romano’s handwriting:
The true power of this family is not in secrets, but in the loyalty of the ones you cast aside.
