Chapter 9 - The Confession
The coal chute was suffocatingly tight.
I shimmied forward, the smell of century-old dust burning my lungs. The beam of the small tactical flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating cobwebs and scurrying spiders. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to keep moving, my elbows scraping raw against the brick.
After what felt like an eternity, the chute opened up.
I tumbled out onto the cold stone floor of the catacombs beneath St. Jude’s Cathedral.
I immediately clicked off the flashlight, plunging myself into absolute darkness. I lay perfectly still, listening.
Above me, the muffled sound of footsteps echoed through the ancient floorboards. Heavy boots pacing back and forth.
I slowly stood up, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light filtering down through the iron grates in the ceiling.
I remembered the layout from when I helped my father clean. The catacombs were a maze of stone pillars and empty tombs, but the service stairs leading up to the rectory were straight ahead.
I moved silently, keeping my back pressed against the damp stone walls.
As I approached the stairs, the voices from above became clearer.
"The transfer hasn't come through," Vincenzo’s voice snarled, echoing down the stairwell. "He’s stalling."
"Luca won't pay you," Teresa’s voice replied. She sounded weak, but defiant. "My son doesn't negotiate with cowards."
I heard a sharp, sickening slap.
Teresa cried out in pain.
Rage, pure and blinding, flared in my chest. I gripped the silenced pistol in my pocket, my knuckles turning white. I wanted to run up the stairs and shoot him. But I remembered Luca’s instructions. Open the door. Then hide.
I crept up the stone steps, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I peeked around the corner of the stairwell.
The rectory was a massive, gothic room with high vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows. Dozens of candles flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Vincenzo Moretti stood in the center of the room. He was tall, thin, and impeccably dressed in a sharp grey suit, holding a heavy revolver.
Teresa was tied to a wooden chair near the altar, a nasty bruise already forming on her cheek.
Two armed guards stood near the main entrance, watching the front courtyard.
But the heavy iron side door—the one Luca and Daniel were waiting behind—was unguarded. It was only twenty feet away from me.
I took a deep breath, preparing to make a run for it.
Before I could move, Vincenzo’s phone buzzed loudly.
He snatched it from his pocket, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Ah. Little cousin finally decided to call."
Vincenzo answered, putting the phone on speaker.
"Vincenzo," Luca’s voice echoed through the rectory, sounding strained and desperate. "I have the codes. But the bank requires dual authentication for offshore transfers over ten million. I need to hear my mother's voice to confirm she's alive before I authorize the final release."
"Of course," Vincenzo mocked, stepping closer to Teresa. He held the phone near her face. "Speak, Auntie."
"Don't give him a dime, Luca!" Teresa yelled bravely. "He’s going to—"
Vincenzo yanked the phone away, laughing. "She's feisty today. You have three minutes, Luca. Or I start sending pieces of her to the estate."
"Wait," Luca said quickly, his voice suddenly changing. It lost the desperate edge, dropping into a cold, terrifyingly calm register. "Before I hit send, I want to ask you a question, Vincenzo."
"Make it fast."
"Why Julian?" Luca asked. "If you wanted the money, you could have come for me years ago. Why wait for my idiot uncle to stage a coup?"
Vincenzo chuckled, pacing back and forth in front of the altar. "Julian was convenient. He had the manpower, and he had a grudge. He thought he was going to take the territory. He didn't realize I planted a tracker on his car. When the bomb went off at the estate, I knew you would be distracted."
"Julian thought he was avenging my father's exile," Luca said, stalling for time. "He thought he was taking back what was stolen from him."
"Julian was a fool," Vincenzo sneered, stopping in the center of the room. "Antonio didn't exile Julian because of Dominic Bellini's trafficking ring."
Teresa gasped, her head snapping up.
I froze in the stairwell.
"What are you talking about?" Luca demanded over the phone.
"Your father didn't care about the South Side docks," Vincenzo laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Antonio exiled Julian to protect me."
The silence in the rectory was absolute.
"Twenty years ago," Vincenzo continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, "I was skimming from the family accounts. A lot of money. Antonio found out. But instead of killing me, his favorite nephew, he blamed Julian. He fabricated the story about the trafficking ring and forced Julian to leave the country. Your father was a hypocrite, Luca. He preached loyalty, but he protected a thief to save his own bloodline."
Teresa stared at Vincenzo in absolute horror. "You... you stole from the family? And Antonio covered it up?"
"He loved me more than he loved his own brother," Vincenzo smiled cruelly. "And now, I’m taking the rest of it."
Down in the stairwell, I realized Luca wasn't just stalling for time. He was getting a confession. He wanted to know exactly why his family had been torn apart before he ended it.
"Time's up, Luca," Vincenzo snapped, raising his revolver and aiming it directly at Teresa's head. "Authorize the transfer, or I blow her brains out."
"Okay," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I authorized it."
"Good boy," Vincenzo smirked, looking at his phone for the confirmation.
He didn't see me move.
I burst from the stairwell, sprinting across the rectory floor with zero hesitation.
I didn't run toward Teresa. I ran straight for the heavy iron side door.
Vincenzo’s head snapped up at the sound of my footsteps. "What the hell?"
I reached the door, grabbing the massive iron deadbolt and throwing it back with a loud, echoing CLACK.
"Kill her!" Vincenzo screamed at his guards.
I dove to the floor, sliding behind a heavy wooden pew just as a hail of bullets shattered the wood where I had been standing a second before.
Before the guards could adjust their aim, the heavy iron side door was kicked open with explosive force.
Luca Moretti didn't just enter the room. He erupted into it.
He moved with blinding speed, a silenced pistol in each hand. He didn't yell. He didn't hesitate.
Pffft. Pffft.
The two guards dropped to the floor, instantly neutralized before they could even turn their weapons toward the door.
Vincenzo spun around, panicking, raising his revolver toward Luca.
But Daniel and the tactical team poured into the room behind Luca, their laser sights painting Vincenzo’s chest with dozens of red dots.
"Drop it, Vincenzo," Luca commanded, his voice echoing like thunder in the vaulted cathedral.
Vincenzo stared at the laser sights on his chest. He looked at the dead guards. He looked at Luca.
Slowly, a wicked, defiant smile spread across his face.
"You won't shoot me, Luca," Vincenzo laughed, keeping his gun aimed at Teresa. "You're just like your father. You’re too soft to kill family."
Luca didn't blink.
He raised his right hand, aiming his pistol directly at Vincenzo’s head.
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"My father protected you because he loved you," Luca said coldly. "I don't."
Luca pulled the trigger.
