Chapter 11 - THE SAFE HOUSE
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, crossing my arms.
It was 2:00 a.m. The mansion was buzzing with frantic, silent energy. Armed men in tactical gear were securing the perimeter, taking up positions at the gates and the windows.
Antonio was standing in Leo’s bedroom, watching the little boy sleep peacefully.
He turned to me, his expression harder than I had seen it in months.
“Caroline, this isn’t a negotiation. The Romanos are a cartel. They don’t care who gets in the crossfire. You and Leo are going to a safe house in Wisconsin until I handle this.”
“I’m a nurse, Antonio. If shooting starts, you’re going to need me here.”
“I need you to keep my grandson safe!” Antonio snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He took a deep breath, stepping closer to me. “Please. I cannot fight a war if I am worried about you two.”
He reached out and touched the pearl earrings I was wearing—the ones he had given me.
“I lost my wife because I didn’t protect her,” Antonio whispered. “I will not lose you.”
My heart ached. I nodded slowly. “Okay. Where is the safe house?”
“Dominic is driving you,” Antonio said. “He knows the location. It’s entirely off the books.”
Thirty minutes later, Leo was wrapped in a blanket, sleepy and confused, sitting in the back of a heavily armored SUV. I sat next to him, holding his small hand.
Dominic was in the driver’s seat.
Antonio stood at the open door. He leaned in, kissed Leo’s forehead, and then looked at me.
“I’ll come for you when it’s over,” he promised.
“Be careful,” I whispered.
He closed the door.
Dominic drove us out the back gates, avoiding the main roads. We drove for hours into the dark, rural landscape of Wisconsin.
By dawn, we pulled up to a massive, secluded cabin surrounded by dense pine trees. It looked like a fortress.
“Go inside,” Dominic said, unlocking the heavy reinforced door. “There’s food in the pantry. Don’t turn on the lights. Keep away from the windows.”
“Are you staying?” I asked.
Dominic shook his head, racking the slide of his pistol. “My uncle needs me in Chicago. The Romanos hit one of our warehouses an hour ago. The war has started.”
He drove away, leaving Leo and me alone in the silent woods.
For two days, we heard nothing. The news on the cabin’s satellite TV showed a sudden spike in "gang-related violence" in Chicago. Fires at the docks. Shootings in empty parking lots.
I played board games with Leo, trying to keep his mind occupied, but I was terrified.
On the third night, a massive thunderstorm rolled over the cabin. Thunder shook the floorboards.
I put Leo to bed in the master bedroom and sat in the living room, staring at the dead fireplace.
At 11:45 p.m., the power went out.
The cabin plunged into total darkness.
I froze. Storms caused power outages all the time, but my instincts screamed that this was different.
I crept to the window and looked out into the rain.
A flash of lightning illuminated the driveway.
There were three black SUVs parked outside.
And men were moving toward the cabin.
They had found us.
I ran to the bedroom. I grabbed Leo, covering his mouth gently.
“Shhh, buddy. We have to hide,” I whispered in his ear.
I carried him to the master bathroom, pushed aside the towels in the linen closet, and forced us into the small space, pulling the door shut.
Seconds later, the front door of the cabin was kicked open with a massive crash.
Heavy boots stomped across the hardwood floor. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness.
“Check the bedrooms!” a rough voice yelled. “Find the kid! Kill the nurse!”
Footsteps approached the master bedroom.
The door was kicked open.
I held Leo so tight I thought I might break him, praying he wouldn’t make a sound.
The flashlight beam swept the room. It hit the closet door.
A man’s hand grabbed the handle of the linen closet.
He pulled it open.
May you like
He pointed a gun directly at my face.
“Found them,” the man smiled.
