Chapter 7 - THE DIAMOND BRACELET
Vincent Russo looked exactly like his brother, but the soul behind his eyes was entirely missing.
He was thinner than Dominic, paler, with a cruel, mocking smile that made my stomach turn.
He leveled the silenced pistol directly at my mother’s chest.
“Put the gun down, Grace,” Vincent said smoothly. “Or I kill the cook.”
My hands shook. I had never fired a gun in my life.
I looked at my mother. She was crying, shaking her head.
I slowly lowered Dominic’s pistol and dropped it onto the linoleum floor.
Vincent kicked it away.
“Smart girl.”
He walked further into the cramped office.
“Where is Dominic?” I demanded, stepping in front of Matthew.
“My dear brother is currently shooting his way through an empty warehouse two blocks from here,” Vincent laughed. “Paul is bleeding out on the floor there. A brilliant distraction.”
Answer one, open two.
Vincent hadn’t met Paul to split the money.
He had sacrificed Paul to keep Dominic busy while he came for the one thing he actually needed.
Vincent looked down at Matthew.
“Hello, kid,” Vincent sneered.
Matthew shrank behind my legs. “You’re a bad man.”
“I’m a rich man,” Vincent corrected. He looked at me. “Where is the watch, Grace? Elena texted me from the basement. She said the maid took it.”
He didn’t know I had thrown the watch, and he didn’t know I still had the account codes.
I kept my face perfectly blank.
“I left it at the house.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
He stepped forward and backhanded me across the face.
I hit the floor hard, tasting blood.
“Grace!” my mother screamed.
“Don’t lie to me!” Vincent yelled, pointing the gun at my head. “Elena saw you put the paper in your apron!”
He reached down, grabbing the collar of my uniform, and hauled me back to my feet.
As his hand brushed near my face, the diamond bracelet on his wrist caught the light.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the same diamond bracelet Dominic kept in a glass display case in his study. The bracelet that belonged to his late wife, Matthew’s mother.
The Reversal hit me, terrifying and clear.
Vincent hadn’t just killed his own mother.
He had killed Dominic’s wife, too.
“You killed her,” I gasped, staring at the bracelet. “You killed Matthew’s mom.”
Vincent looked at his wrist.
He smiled, a cold, soulless expression.
“Maria was too smart for her own good,” Vincent whispered. “She figured out I was stealing from the syndicate long before my mother did. She threatened to tell Dominic. So, I cut her brakes.”
My blood boiled.
This man was a monster. He had destroyed Dominic’s entire life, piece by piece, just to steal his empire.
“Give me the paper, Grace,” Vincent demanded, pressing the barrel of the gun to my temple.
I reached into my apron pocket.
My fingers brushed against the tiny roll of paper with the account codes.
But right next to it was something else.
My mother’s diner waitressing lighter. The heavy metal Zippo she used to light the old gas stoves in the kitchen.
I had put it in my apron yesterday when I helped her close up.
“Okay,” I whispered, pulling my hand out slowly. “I have it.”
I held my hand closed in a fist.
Vincent eagerly reached for it.
I didn’t hand him the paper.
I flicked the Zippo open, struck the wheel, and shoved the open flame directly into the face of the fire sprinkler sensor above my head.
The tiny glass bulb shattered instantly.
Alarms blared.
Freezing cold water erupted from the ceiling in a massive, blinding torrent.
Vincent yelled in shock, stumbling backward as the high-pressure water hit his eyes.
I grabbed the heavy metal filing cabinet next to me and shoved it with all my strength.
It tipped over, crashing directly onto Vincent’s legs.
He screamed, dropping his gun.
“Mom, run!” I shouted over the deafening alarm.
My mother grabbed Matthew’s hand, and they sprinted out of the office toward the back door of the diner.
I dove for Dominic’s dropped pistol.
My fingers slipped on the wet linoleum.
Before I could grab it, a hand clamped around my ankle.
Vincent yanked me backward.
I kicked wildly, my shoe connecting with his face.
He cursed, but he didn’t let go. He pulled himself out from under the filing cabinet, his eyes wild with murderous rage.
He reached for his silenced pistol on the floor.
He raised it, aiming directly at my chest.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact.
But the shot that echoed through the diner didn’t come from Vincent’s gun.
It was deafeningly loud.
Vincent froze.
His eyes widened in shock.
He dropped his gun, looking down at his chest.
A dark red stain was blooming across his wet trench coat.
He collapsed sideways onto the floor.
I scrambled backward, gasping for air in the pouring water.
May you like
I looked toward the dining area.
Standing in the doorway, soaked to the bone, holding a smoking shotgun, was Dominic.
