Chapter 6 - THE SILVER ROSARY
The floodlights were blinding.
The carriage house, our only sanctuary, was now a trap illuminated like a stage.
Marcus stood confidently at the front of the tactical team. He wasn't wearing his security uniform anymore. He wore a perfectly tailored suit. The transition was complete. He was already dressing like the boss.
"You have no play here, Matteo," Marcus's voice boomed through the megaphone. "The perimeter is locked. The police commissioner has declared you a hostile fugitive. Drop the weapons and step out."
Matteo sat perfectly still behind the steering wheel of the vintage Mustang.
He looked at the USB drive resting on the center console.
"They won't let us live," Matteo said quietly, not looking at me. "Even if I surrender, they can't leave witnesses. Marcus knows you and Leo saw Julian in the tunnel."
"What do we do?" I whispered, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Matteo reached into his jacket.
He pulled out an object.
A delicate, silver rosary.
I recognized it immediately. It was the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror of the estate's main transport SUV. The one I dusted every week.
"Elena gave me this on our wedding day," Matteo said, wrapping the silver chain tightly around his knuckles like a weapon. "I promised her I would always protect our family."
He turned to me. The cold, ruthless mafia boss was gone. In his eyes, I saw only the desperate, agonizing love of a father.
"Sophie," he said softly. "You are not a maid anymore. You are the only chance my son has."
"No," I pleaded, realizing what he was about to do.
"When I step out," Matteo instructed, his voice hardening into steel, "I will draw their fire. I will give you exactly ten seconds. You put the car in reverse, smash through the back wall of this carriage house, and drive into the woods. The structural beams in the back are rotted. The car will break through."
"They'll shoot the tires! They'll shoot you!"
"Take the USB drive," Matteo ignored my panic, shoving the plastic envelope into my hand. "Get to the city. Go to the Federal Bureau. Give it to Agent Harris. He's the only one not bought by the syndicate. Tell him Matteo Vescari sent you."
"I can't leave you to die!" tears streamed down my face.
Matteo leaned over and kissed my forehead. A brief, incredibly tender gesture that stopped my breath.
"You saved my son tonight," Matteo whispered. "You gave me back my dignity. Now, let me do my job."
He opened the car door.
"Daddy!" Leo screamed from the backseat.
Matteo didn't look back. If he did, I knew he wouldn't be able to leave.
He stepped out of the car, raising his hands, the silver rosary glinting in the floodlights.
"Marcus!" Matteo shouted, walking slowly toward the line of armed men. "I'm unarmed. Let the woman and the boy go, and you can have me."
Marcus smiled, lowering the megaphone. "That's very noble, Matteo. But I think I'll just take everything."
He raised his handgun, aiming squarely at Matteo's chest.
Ten seconds, Matteo had said.
I scrambled into the driver's seat. My injured leg screamed in agony as I pressed the heavy clutch. I jammed the keys in the ignition and twisted.
The vintage engine roared to life with a deafening, throaty growl.
The sound startled the tactical team.
I slammed the gearshift into reverse.
But I didn't look back.
I looked at the floorboards of the carriage house.
Earlier, when we first entered, I had noticed something. I cleaned garages. I knew how they were laid out. I knew that carriage houses built in the 1920s had old, exposed gas heating pipes running along the baseboards.
And I knew there was a massive, rusted propane tank sitting right next to the front doors where Marcus and his men were standing.
I didn't drive backward.
I slammed the gearshift into drive.
I slammed my foot on the gas pedal.
The Mustang leaped forward, tires screaming against the concrete.
I didn't aim for the men. I aimed for the massive steel propane tank against the front wall.
"Sophie, what are you doing?!" Matteo roared, diving out of the way.
The police officers opened fire, bullets shattering the windshield. I threw myself over the center console, shielding Leo with my body.
The car slammed into the propane tank with a horrifying crunch of metal.
The impact sheared the valve clean off.
Highly pressurized gas hissed violently into the air, filling the front of the carriage house in seconds.
I grabbed the heavy metal emergency flare gun from the glove compartment—I had seen it when searching for the keys.
I kicked my door open and rolled out onto the concrete, pulling Leo with me.
"Matteo! Get down!" I screamed.
I aimed the flare gun at the expanding cloud of gas near the front doors, right where Marcus and his men were coughing and stumbling backward.
I pulled the trigger.
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A bright red ball of fire shot across the room.
The explosion was catastrophic.
