Chapter 4 - THE SILVER LOCKET
The soft, tinkling melody of the music box abruptly stopped, leaving the room in a suffocating, terrifying silence.
Roman didn’t flinch. He didn’t drop the faded hospital wristband. He merely slowly turned his head to look at the massive man standing in the doorway.
“Marco,” Roman said, his voice deadly quiet. “You are pointing a loaded weapon at your Don. In front of my son.”
Marco’s hand was shaking slightly, but his grip on the gun remained firm. A bead of sweat rolled down his scarred cheek. “I’m sorry, boss. Truly, I am. But I made a vow to Sofia.”
“You knew?” Roman’s eyes darkened with a sudden, violent fury. “You knew my wife had another child? My child? And you kept it from me?”
“I kept him alive,” Marco shot back, his voice cracking with emotion. “If you had known about Leo, your uncle Silvio would have known about him. And you know exactly what Silvio does to threats to his power.”
Kate grabbed Eli’s shoulders and pulled the little boy firmly against her legs, shielding him from the line of fire. Her mind was spinning. Leo. An older brother.
“Where is he?” Roman demanded, taking a slow, calculated step toward the gun.
“Don’t step closer, Roman,” Marco warned, backing toward the hallway. “Sofia hid him. Even I don’t know exactly where. She paid a cleaner to keep him off the grid. She only told me to protect the music box if anything ever happened to her.”
“Why?” Kate asked, her voice trembling but surprisingly loud.
Marco’s eyes darted to her. “Because underneath the velvet lining of that box is the evidence that proves Silvio ordered the hit on her car.”
Roman stopped cold. The anger in his face fractured, replaced by sheer, agonizing betrayal. Silvio was Roman’s uncle. The man who raised him. The man who taught him how to lead the syndicate.
“Silvio killed her?” Roman whispered.
“She found out Silvio was skimming millions from the family accounts and selling our shipping routes to the Russians,” Marco confessed hurriedly. “She was going to expose him. Silvio cut her brakes. I found out too late.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?!” Roman roared, the terrifying mafia boss finally losing control.
“Because you would have gone to war!” Marco yelled back. “And Silvio had half your captains in his pocket! You would have died, Roman! And Silvio would have killed Eli next! Sofia wanted you alive!”
Before Roman could take another step, a sharp, deafening CRACK shattered the glass of the study’s massive bay window.
Wood splintered. The antique lamp on the desk exploded into a thousand pieces.
“Get down!” Marco screamed.
Gunfire ripped through the room. Kate threw herself over Eli, driving the boy to the thick Persian rug. Roman dove behind the heavy oak desk, pulling his own weapon from his shoulder holster in a blur of motion.
Marco wasn’t shooting at Roman. The bodyguard spun toward the shattered window, firing three rapid shots into the darkness outside.
“Silvio’s men!” Marco shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire. “They tracked us from the restaurant! We have to move! Now!”
Roman didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the wooden music box and shoved it into his jacket. “The service corridor! Go!”
Kate scrambled to her feet, scooping Eli into her arms. The five-year-old was burying his face in her neck, too terrified to cry.
Marco covered the door as Roman grabbed Kate’s arm, hauling her toward a disguised bookshelf in the corner of the study. Roman slammed his palm against a hidden panel, and the shelf swung open, revealing a dark, narrow staircase.
“Down!” Roman ordered.
Kate rushed down the stairs, Eli clutched tightly to her chest. Roman followed, firing blindly back into the study.
Marco was the last one in. But as he stepped backward into the secret passageway, a final barrage of bullets tore through the study door.
Marco grunted, a wet, heavy sound.
He stumbled backward, slamming into the brick wall of the hidden staircase. Roman grabbed the mechanism and yanked the heavy bookshelf shut, plunging them into pitch blackness.
The muffled sounds of shouting and gunfire echoed from the room above.
Roman flicked on a small tactical flashlight. The beam hit Marco.
The massive bodyguard was sitting on the bottom step, his hand pressed against his stomach. Dark, black blood was pouring between his fingers, soaking his white shirt.
“Marco,” Roman said, dropping to his knees beside his friend.
“I’m done, boss,” Marco coughed, a bloody bubble forming on his lips. “They hit the artery.”
“I’ll carry you,” Roman insisted, grabbing Marco’s arm.
“No.” Marco swatted Roman’s hand away with shocking strength. “Silvio’s men will breach that shelf in two minutes. You have to get the boy out.”
Kate knelt beside them, shifting Eli to her hip. “We can’t just leave you!”
Marco looked up at Kate. His terrifying demeanor was completely gone, leaving only a loyal, dying man. With a trembling hand, he reached into his blood-soaked pocket and pulled out a small, silver object.
He pressed it into Kate’s palm.
It was a heavy silver locket.
“What is this?” Kate whispered, her fingers slick with Marco’s blood.
“Open it,” Marco gasped.
Kate pried the small silver clasp open. Inside the locket wasn't a picture. It was a tightly folded, blood-stained piece of paper.
Kate unfolded it under the beam of Roman’s flashlight.
It was an old, faded train ticket. But it wasn't a ticket leaving Boston. It was a ticket arriving in Worcester, dated seven years ago.
“Sofia gave me that... the night she hid him,” Marco wheezed, his eyes losing focus. “She said... if you ever needed to find Leo... follow the ghost.”
Roman leaned in closer. “What ghost, Marco? Who has my son?”
Marco looked at Kate, a sad, knowing smile crossing his pale lips.
“The woman who raised you, Kate,” Marco whispered. “Margaret Miller.”
Kate’s heart stopped.
“My grandmother?” Kate gasped. “But she died five years ago!”
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Marco coughed one final time, his chest going completely still. His unblinking eyes stared up at the dark ceiling of the tunnel.
“No, she didn't,” Roman said, his voice cold and hard as he stood up, chambering a round in his pistol. “Because your grandmother used to be the best cleaner the Boston Syndicate ever had.”
