Chapter 6 - THE OLD SHIPYARD
The black SUV tore through the rain-slicked streets of Providence, heading back toward Boston.
I sat in the back seat, holding a sleeping Elara tightly against my chest. The heavy Kevlar vest Matteo had forced me to wear felt suffocating, a physical reminder of the violence we were driving toward.
"Where are we taking her?" I asked quietly, not wanting to wake the little girl.
Matteo met my eyes in the rearview mirror. His face was set in grim determination.
"To the only place Lorenzo and Julian can't touch her," Matteo said. "The Diocese of St. Jude."
An hour later, we pulled into the courtyard of a massive, imposing gothic cathedral in the heart of Boston. It was raining heavily again, the water cascading off the stone gargoyles watching over the heavy oak doors.
Matteo carried Elara inside. The cathedral was dark, lit only by hundreds of flickering candles near the altar.
An older priest, wearing simple black robes, stepped out from the shadows.
"Father Thomas," Matteo said softly.
"Matteo," the priest replied, his eyes filled with sorrow as he looked at the sleeping child. "I told you this day would come."
"Keep her safe," Matteo ordered, his voice cracking slightly. "Lock the sanctuary. Do not open the doors for anyone but me. If I am not back by dawn..."
Matteo paused, swallowing hard.
"If I am not back by dawn, take her to the safe house in Montreal. The accounts are fully funded."
Father Thomas nodded solemnly, taking the little girl from Matteo’s arms. Elara stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep, but didn't wake.
Matteo stood there for a long moment, watching the only pure thing in his life disappear into the safety of the church.
When he turned back to me, the father was gone entirely. The ruthless boss of the Romano syndicate had returned, cold and lethal.
"We have three hours until midnight," Matteo said, walking past me toward the exit. "We need to prepare."
We drove to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the docks. Matteo pulled a heavy canvas bag from the trunk of the SUV and threw it onto a wooden crate.
He unzipped it, revealing an arsenal of weaponry that made my stomach turn.
"Julian expects me to come alone," Matteo said, slamming a magazine into a sleek submachine gun. "He expects me to hand over the transition papers in exchange for your sister. He thinks he holds all the cards."
Matteo handed me a small, compact handgun.
"Safety is here," Matteo instructed, guiding my trembling thumb over the metal switch. "Keep it concealed in your coat pocket. Only pull it if you have a clear shot, and only if he is about to kill you."
"I've never fired a gun," I whispered, staring at the cold black metal.
"You are a Rossi," Matteo said quietly, stepping closer. "Survival is in your blood, Clara. You saved my life at the dinner table. Tonight, we save your sister."
At 11:30 PM, we parked a mile away from the old Boston shipyard.
The rain had stopped, leaving a thick, suffocating fog rolling off the dark water of the harbor. The shipyard was a graveyard of rusted shipping containers, massive broken cranes, and shadows.
"Stay behind me," Matteo whispered, raising his rifle as we moved silently through the labyrinth of rusted metal.
As we approached the center of the yard, the fog thinned slightly, revealing a clearing illuminated by the harsh glare of a single, buzzing halogen light.
Sitting in a wooden chair directly under the light was Chloe.
Her hands were bound behind her back with heavy zip-ties. Her face was bruised and tear-stained.
Standing ten feet away, leaning casually against a shipping container, was Julian. He was still wearing his tailored grey suit, completely unbothered by the damp cold.
"He's alone," I whispered to Matteo, panic rising. "It's a trap."
"I know," Matteo replied softly.
Matteo stepped out from behind the container, walking into the edge of the halogen light. I stayed hidden in the shadows, my hand gripping the gun in my pocket so tightly my knuckles ached.
Julian smiled, slowly clapping his hands together. The sound echoed eerily through the empty shipyard.
"Matteo," Julian grinned. "Right on time. Did you bring the papers?"
Matteo didn't raise his rifle. He held a thick manila envelope in his left hand.
"I brought them," Matteo said, his voice echoing loudly. "Let the girl go, Julian."
Julian laughed, a dry, rattling sound.
"Let her go?" Julian mocked, pushing himself off the shipping container. "Matteo, you really have grown soft in your old age. She is the bait. Why would I let the bait go before catching the prize?"
Julian reached into his jacket and pulled out his cracked gold pocket watch. He checked the time, then looked back at Matteo.
"Where is the maid, Matteo?" Julian asked, his voice dropping the playful tone. "Where is Clara?"
"She's gone," Matteo lied smoothly. "I sent her out of the city."
"No, you didn't," Julian said, his eyes scanning the dark shipping containers. "You know exactly who she is. You know Lorenzo wants her dead. You brought her here to trade her life for this pathetic, treacherous little sister."
Julian drew a heavy silver revolver and pointed it directly at Chloe’s head.
Chloe screamed, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Clara!" Julian roared into the fog. "I know you're out there! If you don't step into the light in the next five seconds, I blow your sister's brains out!"
My heart stopped.
"Don't do it, Clara," Matteo warned quietly, not looking back at me.
"One!" Julian shouted, cocking the hammer of the revolver.
Chloe sobbed hysterically.
"Two!"
I couldn't watch her die. She had betrayed us, she had nearly gotten Elara killed, but she was still my little sister.
"Three!"
I stepped out of the shadows.
"I'm here," I yelled, my voice cracking as I walked into the harsh glare of the halogen light.
Julian’s cruel smile returned instantly.
"Ah, the lost Rossi heir," Julian purred, lowering the gun from Chloe’s head. "Lorenzo was right. You look exactly like your father."
Julian looked at Matteo.
"Drop the rifle, little brother," Julian commanded. "And kick the envelope over here. The game is over."
Matteo stared at Julian. He didn't drop the rifle.
"The game is over, Julian," Matteo agreed softly. "But you aren't the one playing it."
Before Julian could react, the heavy metal doors of the shipping container directly behind him violently burst open.
Three heavily armed men poured out of the container, their weapons raised.
But they didn't aim at Matteo.
They aimed directly at Julian.
Julian spun around, his silver revolver raised, but he froze when he saw the man stepping out from the darkness of the container.
It was Lorenzo Romano. His arm was in a sling from where Matteo had shot him earlier, but his eyes were burning with lethal intent.
"Hello, Julian," Lorenzo sneered.
Julian stared at his uncle in absolute shock.
"You betrayed me," Julian whispered.
"You were a means to an end," Lorenzo said coldly. "I needed you to draw Matteo and the Rossi girl into the open so I could eliminate all of you at once. Thank you for setting the stage."
Lorenzo raised his good arm, signaling his men.
"Kill them all," Lorenzo ordered.
But as the men’s fingers tightened on their triggers, the darkness above us exploded into light.
Massive floodlights attached to the shipyard cranes suddenly clicked on, blinding everyone in the yard.
A voice boomed over a heavy megaphone, echoing like thunder across the water.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE!"
Dozens of federal agents in tactical gear poured out from behind the shipping containers, laser sights cutting through the fog, aiming directly at Lorenzo and Julian.
Julian panicked.
He didn't drop his weapon. Instead, he grabbed Chloe by her hair, yanking her up from the chair and pressing the revolver against her temple, using her as a human shield.
"Back off!" Julian screamed wildly at the federal agents. "I'll kill her!"
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Matteo didn't hesitate.
In one fluid motion, Matteo raised his rifle and fired a single shot.
