Chapter 6 - THE FATHER'S WATCH
The heat rising from the greenhouse vents smelled like damp earth and rotting orchids.
I crouched on the narrow metal walkway, the glass roof cool beneath my hands, peering down into the atrium.
Leo looked so small.
He was wearing his favorite blue sweater, the one with the frayed sleeves. His tiny face was pale, tear-streaked, but he wasn't crying anymore. He was staring at the heavy gold watch sliding up and down his forearm.
"It's too big," Leo said, his little voice echoing faintly up to the glass roof.
Sal paced around him, the silver revolver glinting in the harsh light.
"It belonged to a king," Sal sneered, adjusting the lapels of his suit. "A king who didn't have the stomach to rule. He wanted to take the family legitimate. Build schools. Pay taxes." Sal spat on the dirt floor. "I took his crown. And I took his watch."
Dominic was beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.
"He wired the doors," Dominic whispered, pointing down at the main entrance. I could see the faint red blinking lights of C4 explosive rigged to the doorframe.
"If we break the glass, the noise will give him a second to fire before we hit the ground," Dominic analyzed quietly. "I have to draw his attention."
Dominic pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number.
Down in the atrium, Sal’s suit pocket vibrated.
Sal smiled, pulling out his phone. He answered, putting it on speaker.
"You're late, Dominic," Sal’s voice floated up, loud and clear. "The boy is getting restless."
"I have the folder, Sal," Dominic said into his phone, his voice echoing from the device in Sal's hand. "I'm standing outside the front doors. Disarm the explosives. Let the boy walk out, and I'll slide the folder under the crack."
Sal laughed. A dry, rasping sound.
"Do you think I'm a fool? You slide the folder, I let the boy go, and your snipers take me out."
"You want the proof of your theft? You want to die a rich man?" Dominic countered. "Disarm the door."
"I am dying, Dominic," Sal said, his voice suddenly hollow. "Pancreatic cancer. Six months left. I don't care about spending the money. I care about the legacy. If I burn this folder, no one will ever know I stole it. History will remember me as the savior of the Caruso empire. Not a thief."
Sal cocked the hammer of his revolver.
"Bring the folder in yourself, Dominic. Or the boy dies right now."
I couldn't wait anymore. I couldn't let my son sit under the barrel of that gun for another second.
Before Dominic could stop me, I gripped the heavy brass paperweight he had given me in the library, and I slammed it into the glass panel right beneath us.
CRASH.
The glass shattered inward, raining down into the greenhouse like sharp, deadly diamonds.
Sal flinched, looking up, raising his gun toward the ceiling.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He dropped through the broken skylight, falling twenty feet directly into the thick, towering ferns of the atrium.
I grabbed the metal edge and dropped after him, ignoring the shards that sliced my palms.
I hit the soft, damp earth and rolled, the pain in my knee exploding into white-hot agony.
"Hannah!" Leo screamed.
"Get away from him!" I yelled, raising Dominic’s backup pistol, my hands shaking wildly.
Sal spun around, leveling his gun at me.
"The devoted mother," Sal sneered. "How touching."
But before Sal could pull the trigger, Dominic burst from the ferns like a shadow, tackling Sal around the waist.
The two men crashed into a row of heavy ceramic planters. Terracotta shattered. Soil exploded into the air.
The gun fired wildly, the bullet tearing through the glass wall above my head.
I scrambled across the dirt on my hands and knees, grabbing Leo and pulling him fiercely against my chest.
"Mommy's got you, baby, I've got you," I sobbed, pressing his face into my shoulder. He was shaking violently, his little hands clutching the back of my dress.
A few yards away, Dominic and Sal were locked in a brutal struggle.
Sal was old, but he was fighting with the desperate strength of a dying man. He drove his knee into Dominic’s ribs, trying to bring the gun up.
Dominic blocked the arm, twisting Sal’s wrist with a sickening crack.
Sal howled, dropping the gun.
Dominic pinned him to the dirt, raising a heavy fist.
"This is for my father!" Dominic roared, bringing his fist down.
Sal’s head snapped back.
"And this," Dominic snarled, "is for David!"
He hit him again. Sal went limp in the dirt, blood pouring from his nose.
Dominic stood up, chest heaving, his knuckles bloody. He kicked Sal’s gun away.
It was over.
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for three years. I squeezed Leo, burying my face in his hair.
Dominic walked toward us. The cold mafia boss was gone. His eyes were wide, desperate, checking to see if we were unharmed.
"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside us.
"We're fine," I cried, reaching out with one trembling hand to touch his face. "Thank you. Thank you, Dominic."
Dominic smiled, a genuine, exhausted smile.
Then, from the shadows near the entrance, a voice rang out.
"How beautiful."
We froze.
Stepping out from behind the massive, explosive-rigged doors was Matteo.
Dominic’s brother.
He was holding a shotgun. And it was aimed right at Dominic’s back.
"Matteo," Dominic said slowly, standing up to place himself between the shotgun and me. "What are you doing?"
"I’m finishing it, Dom," Matteo said, tears streaming down his face. "Sal was right. You're too weak to lead. You care too much about the help."
Matteo pumped the shotgun.
"I take the folder. I take the empire. And you all die in a tragic explosion."
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Matteo aimed the barrel dead center at Dominic’s chest.
"Goodbye, brother."
