Chapter 8 - THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD
The gunshot was deafening inside the stone walls of the bell tower.
The muzzle flash lit up the room in a strobe of violent yellow.
Vincent jerked violently as the bullet tore through the left side of his chest.
He stumbled backward, falling heavily onto his knees.
"Vincent!" I screamed, grabbing his shoulders as he collapsed against me.
Blood rapidly soaked through his dark sweater, hot and thick against my hands.
Julian stood frozen by the bell, his hands shaking violently, the gun still smoking. He stared at the man he had just shot—his uncle—the man who had just thrown away his own life to save a housekeeper and her child.
"Why..." Julian stammered, his voice breaking. "Why didn't you shoot back?"
Vincent coughed, a wet, rattling sound, pressing his hand over his bleeding chest.
He looked up at the boy.
"Because... you're a DeLuca," Vincent wheezed, forcing a sad, painful smile. "And we don't kill family. Not anymore."
Julian dropped the gun. It clattered against the stone floor. He sank to his knees, burying his face in his bloody hands, overwhelmed by the weight of what he had done.
I ripped off my Kevlar vest, tearing my sweater to press the fabric hard against Vincent's wound.
"Keep pressure on it," I cried, looking at Leo. "Leo, baby, turn around. Don't look."
Leo obediently turned to face the stone wall, covering his ears, his little shoulders shaking.
"Marcus?" I asked Vincent, my voice trembling as I pressed down on his chest.
"Dead," Vincent gasped, his head rolling back against my lap. "He shot first. I was faster."
I looked down at the most feared man in the city.
He wasn't a monster. He was just a man carrying the sins of everyone around him.
"You're going to be okay," I lied, tears falling onto his face. "The ambulance is coming."
"I didn't call an ambulance, Claire," Vincent whispered, his eyes slowly losing focus.
Suddenly, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the storm.
Red and blue lights flashed through the open arches of the bell tower, illuminating the rain in vibrant colors.
"Police?" I asked, confused.
"I called the Commissioner," Vincent breathed, his hand reaching up to grab my wrist weakly. "I gave him everything. The ledgers. The accounts. The names. The DeLuca empire... ends tonight."
I stared at him in shock. "You turned yourself in?"
"It's the only way," Vincent smiled weakly. "To ensure Marcus's men don't hunt you. To ensure Julian is safe. The mob is dead, Claire."
Heavy boots pounded up the spiral staircase.
Julian scrambled backward as SWAT officers burst into the bell tower, their rifles raised.
"Drop your weapons! Hands in the air!"
I raised my hands, my palms covered in Vincent's blood.
A paramedic rushed forward, pushing me gently aside to work on Vincent.
As they lifted Vincent onto a stretcher, he turned his head toward Julian.
The boy was being handcuffed by an officer, his face pale and terrified.
"Officer," Vincent croaked loudly.
The police captain stepped forward. "DeLuca."
"The boy..." Vincent coughed, pointing a trembling finger at Julian. "He's my nephew. He acted in self-defense. Marcus Hale kidnapped this woman's son. The boy was trying to save them."
Julian looked at Vincent, his eyes widening in shock.
Vincent was taking the fall for everything.
"Is that true, ma'am?" the captain asked, turning to me.
I looked at Vincent, then at Julian.
The boy who had lost everything. The boy who was forced to become a weapon.
"Yes," I lied flawlessly, my voice steady. "Marcus brought us here. Julian tried to stop him. He's a hero."
The captain nodded, gesturing for the officers to un-cuff Julian.
As the paramedics began to wheel Vincent out, he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small, heavy object and held it out to Julian.
Julian stepped forward tentatively, taking the object from his uncle's bloody hand.
It was the broken watch. J.D.'s watch.
"Fix it," Vincent whispered, his eyes locking with the boy's. "Build something better with your time, Julian. Break the cycle."
Julian gripped the watch tightly, tears silently rolling down his face.
He nodded once.
"I will," Julian promised.
As they carried Vincent down the stairs, I pulled Leo into my arms, holding him tighter than I ever had in my life.
The nightmare was over.
But as I looked at Julian, holding his father's watch in the flashing lights of the police cruisers, I realized something else.
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The story wasn't ending.
It was just beginning to heal.
