Chapter 8 - The Decoy
“What do you mean it’s not Leo?” I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white.
“I’m looking right at him, Lily,” Adrian said, his voice echoing slightly over the airport intercom announcements in the background. “The boy has brown hair. And he’s wearing glasses. It’s a decoy.”
A cold dread settled in my stomach.
“Victor used the pawn shop footage to bait us,” Adrian realized, the fury returning to his tone. “He knew we’d trace the money clip. He sent me to the airport so he could take Leo somewhere else.”
“Where?” I asked, panic rising.
“I don’t know. I’m heading back to the estate. Interrogate Celeste. Find out if she knows anything about Victor’s safe houses.”
The line clicked dead.
I turned slowly to look at June. She was clutching her teacup, her face pale.
“He’s not at the airport,” I whispered.
June closed her eyes, a single tear escaping. “He’s so clever. Victor was always a brilliant man. A ghost.”
I walked toward the basement stairs, Marcus right behind me.
We opened the heavy steel door to the holding cell. Celeste looked up, glaring at us, her shoulder clumsily bandaged by the estate medic.
“Where is Victor?” Marcus demanded, stepping into the room.
Celeste scoffed. “I already told you. I only saw him at the pawn shop. I don’t know anything about his plans.”
“You’re lying,” I said, stepping forward. I was tired of being the quiet housekeeper. “You bought the watch. You brought it to the estate to frame him.”
“No,” Celeste sneered. “Victor planted the watch. He wanted Adrian to find the Romano receipt. He wanted Adrian to destroy the Romanos so he wouldn’t have to.”
She leaned back against the concrete wall, smiling bitterly.
“Victor doesn’t care about the boy,” Celeste said. “He cares about revenge. He blames Dominic for his daughter’s death, and he blames Adrian for keeping the Falcone empire alive.”
Marcus grabbed her by the collar. “Where would he take the kid?”
“Think about it,” Celeste laughed. “Where is the one place Adrian would never look? Where is the one place Victor’s daughter died?”
My blood ran cold.
I turned and ran back up the stairs, bursting into the kitchen.
“June!” I yelled. “Where did Elena die? Victor’s daughter. Where did it happen?”
June dropped her teacup. It shattered on the tile floor.
“St. Jude’s Cathedral,” June whispered. “On the South Side. She was caught in a shootout on the steps after evening mass.”
“He took Leo to the church,” I said, grabbing my coat.
By the time Adrian returned to the estate, Marcus had already fueled the SUVs.
We didn’t explain. We just told him where to drive.
The rain started coming down in sheets as we sped toward the South Side. The neon signs of the city blurred through the windshield.
St. Jude’s Cathedral was massive, built of black stone with towering stained glass windows. It looked like a fortress in the thunderstorm.
Adrian didn’t wait for the cars to fully stop. He kicked his door open and sprinted up the concrete steps. Marcus and I followed closely behind.
The heavy oak doors were unlocked.
We stepped into the cavernous, dimly lit sanctuary. The smell of incense and old wax hung heavy in the air. Rows of empty wooden pews stretched toward the altar, illuminated only by hundreds of flickering prayer candles.
“Victor!” Adrian shouted, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
From the shadows near the altar, a tall man stepped forward.
He was wearing a dark suit. His gray hair was slicked back, his face deeply lined with years of grief.
In one hand, he held a heavy revolver.
And holding his other hand was a little boy.
Leo.
He looked exactly like the polaroid. Dark hair, pale skin, wearing a slightly oversized sweater. He looked terrified.
“Let him go, Victor,” Adrian said, slowly raising his hands, showing he was unarmed. “He has nothing to do with this.”
Victor laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “He has everything to do with this. He has her blood in his veins, Adrian. My Elena’s blood.”
“Dominic loved her,” Adrian pleaded, taking a slow step down the center aisle. “He never meant for her to get hurt.”
“But she did!” Victor roared, pointing the gun at Adrian’s chest. “Because of your family! Because of the cartel, the ledgers, the violence! You destroy everything you touch!”
Victor looked down at little Leo. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “I’m taking him away. Somewhere you can never infect him.”
“You’re pointing a gun at his uncle,” Adrian said calmly. “You’re scaring him. Is that what Elena would have wanted?”
Victor’s hand trembled.
I stood by the doors, my heart hammering. I looked around the church, desperate for anything that could help.
My eyes landed on a small alcove near the entrance.
Sitting on a velvet cushion was a large, brass donation bell. Used for the poor during Sunday mass.
Without thinking, I walked over to it.
I picked it up.
It wasn’t Adrian’s mother’s bell, but it was close enough.
I looked at Adrian. He caught my eye. He gave a subtle nod.
I raised the heavy brass bell and gave it one loud, clear ring.
The sound cut through the tense silence of the church like a knife.
Little Leo flinched. He looked toward the back of the church.
For a split second, Victor was distracted. He glanced toward the sound.
That was all Adrian needed.
He tackled Victor to the stone floor. The gun went off, the bullet shattering a stained glass window high above.
Marcus rushed forward, grabbing the gun and pinning Victor down.
Leo stood frozen, trembling in the aisle.
Adrian slowly stood up. He brushed the dust off his knees.
He walked over to the terrified little boy.
He knelt down on the cold stone floor, right at eye level.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mother’s small wooden-handled dinner bell.
“Do you know what this is, Leo?” Adrian whispered gently.
The little boy shook his head.
May you like
“It means it’s time to come home,” Adrian said, tears filling his eyes.
And for the first time, the little boy stepped forward, wrapping his small arms around his uncle’s neck.
