Chapter 8 - THE ROSARY
Time slowed to an excruciating crawl.
Vincenzo’s finger tightened on the trigger. He was going to kill me, and then he was going to kill Leo. I braced myself for the impact, closing my eyes.
But the gunshot that shattered the silence didn't come from Vincenzo.
It came from the dark corner of the garage, near the medical van’s open doors.
Vincenzo shrieked, dropping his pistol as his right shoulder exploded in a mist of red. He stumbled backward, clutching his shattered collarbone, the duffel bag forgotten at his feet.
I opened my eyes, stunned.
Standing in the shadows of the open van doors, holding a sleek silver revolver with two trembling hands, was Serena Valenti.
She was incredibly pale, her designer dress soaked in blood from where Dante had shot her earlier. She swayed on her feet, barely conscious, but her eyes burned with absolute fury.
“Nobody… leaves me… to die,” Serena gasped out.
Before Vincenzo’s remaining two men could aim at her, Alessandro moved with terrifying speed.
He didn't use the shotgun. He dropped it, drawing his black handgun and firing twice in rapid succession. The two men dropped to the floor, instantly neutralized.
The garage fell dead silent, save for the rhythmic, mechanical hissing of Leo’s portable ventilator.
Vincenzo lay on the floor, groaning in agony, bleeding heavily.
I didn't care about him. I didn't care about the money. I sprinted toward the van and fell to my knees beside Leo’s stretcher.
“Leo,” I sobbed, pressing my face against his cold, pale hand. The machine was still pumping. He was alive.
Alessandro walked over to Vincenzo. He didn't point a gun at him. He simply reached down and picked up the duffel bag, retrieving the velvet box containing the Romano signet ring.
He opened the box, took the heavy gold ring, and slid it onto his right index finger.
Vincenzo looked up at him, terrified. The arrogant lawyer was finally gone, replaced by a pathetic, broken man.
“Alessandro… please,” Vincenzo begged, coughing up blood. “I can make you richer. I know where the Cartel hides their—”
Alessandro didn't let him finish.
He turned his back on Vincenzo. He looked toward the medical van.
“Claire,” Alessandro called out softly.
I looked up, tears streaming down my face.
Alessandro reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a beautiful, antique silver rosary.
“This belonged to my grandfather,” Alessandro said, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. “He told me the man who wears the ring is the law. But the one who holds the rosary delivers the judgment.”
He walked over and placed the silver beads gently into my hands.
“He ordered your brother's machine unplugged. He ordered my wife’s death,” Alessandro said, looking me dead in the eye. “What happens to him is your choice.”
I looked at the rosary in my trembling hands. Then I looked at Vincenzo, who was scrambling backward on the floor like a rat.
I thought about the last eighteen months. The fear. The hiding. The desperation of trying to keep my brother alive while serving the people who casually threw away lives for money.
I walked slowly toward Vincenzo.
He whimpered, putting a bloody hand up to shield his face.
I stopped right in front of him. I looked down at the pathetic creature who had caused so much suffering.
“You are going to live, Vincenzo,” I said, my voice cold and steady.
Vincenzo blinked, a pathetic glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“You are going to live,” I repeated, leaning in close. “Because Alessandro isn't going to kill you. The police are.”
Sirens began to wail in the distance. Dozens of them. Piercing the quiet night air of the estate.
Alessandro had triggered the silent alarm the moment we left the safe. He had known his men were compromised. He called the federal authorities.
“No!” Vincenzo panicked, trying to stand. “I won't survive prison! The families will gut me!”
“I know,” I said softly.
I turned my back on him and walked back to Leo.
Suddenly, Serena collapsed against the side of the van, the silver revolver clattering to the floor. She was bleeding out.
I rushed over, pressing my hands against her shoulder wound.
“Why?” I asked her. “Why did you save me?”
Serena looked at me, a bitter, sad smile touching her pale lips.
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“I didn't save you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. “I just ruined his ending.”
The heavy steel doors of the garage began to rise. Red and blue police lights flooded the dark concrete, casting long, chaotic shadows across the aftermath of the war.
