Chapter 8 - [THE MAN WAITING IN THE VAULT]
The slow, rhythmic clapping echoed off the concrete walls, each sound striking like a hammer against my frayed nerves.
Luca pushed me and Arthur behind him, raising his pistol as we rounded the corner into the hidden vault.
The room was vast, lined with polished steel safety deposit boxes and rows of filing cabinets. It was a fortress beneath the earth, built to house the legitimate future of the Moretti family.
But sitting comfortably in a leather armchair in the center of the room, wearing a tailored gray suit and smoking a cigar, was a man I had never seen before.
He was in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp, predatory eyes.
“Bravo, Luca,” the man said smoothly, exhaling a plume of blue smoke. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find this place. Your father was a paranoid man, but his craftsmanship was undeniable.”
Luca lowered his gun slightly, genuine shock rippling across his face.
“Uncle Carmine?” Luca breathed.
My stomach dropped. Carmine Moretti. Luca’s uncle, his father’s younger brother. He was supposed to be in exile in Sicily, banished a decade ago for attempting a coup against the family.
“Hello, nephew,” Carmine smiled, standing up and brushing ash from his lapel. “You’ve had quite the busy evening. Tying up Julian, throwing Silvio down the stairs. You’re finally acting like a real Don.”
“What are you doing here, Carmine?” Luca demanded, raising the gun again, aiming squarely at his uncle’s chest. “You were banished. If the Commission knows you’re in the country, you’re a dead man.”
“The Commission invited me back,” Carmine said simply. He walked over to a metal table in the center of the room. Resting on it was a stack of property deeds and bank statements.
“Your father’s little crusade to go legitimate disgusted the other families, Luca. He was going to cut off the criminal revenue streams. He was going to turn us into bankers and philanthropists. It was an insult to our blood.”
Carmine picked up a heavy gold bar from the table, tossing it casually in his hand.
“Julian and Vanessa were clumsy instruments,” Carmine continued, his voice dripping with condescension. “They poisoned your father, cut the brakes, set the fire... all very dramatic. But they lacked vision. They thought they were taking over the empire. They didn't realize they were just clearing the throne for me.”
Arthur gripped my arm tightly. “He orchestrated it,” Arthur whispered in horror. “Carmine paid the Bellinis to assassinate his own brother.”
Carmine smirked, taking a long drag from his cigar. “Family is a tricky business, Arthur. Sometimes, you have to prune the branches to save the tree.”
Luca’s hand was shaking. The man standing in front of him wasn't a rival. It was his own blood. The man who had taught him how to shoot, how to tie a tie.
“You killed my father,” Luca said, his voice breaking with a profound, shattering grief.
“I saved the family,” Carmine corrected sharply. “And now, I’m going to save it again. You’re soft, Luca. You’re just like him. You invite chauffeurs to the dinner table. You let maids listen to family secrets. You aren't fit to wear the ring.”
Carmine casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver revolver. He didn't aim it at Luca.
He aimed it directly at me.
“The girl dies first,” Carmine said coldly. “She knows too much about her father’s death. Then the old man. And then, Luca, you are going to sign all these legitimate assets over to me, and I will let you walk away into a very quiet, very permanent retirement.”
“Don't you touch her!” Luca roared, stepping directly in front of me, putting his own body between me and Carmine’s gun.
“Suit yourself,” Carmine shrugged, his finger tightening on the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshot was deafening in the underground vault.
I screamed, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Waiting for Luca to fall.
But Luca didn't fall.
Instead, Carmine gasped. The silver revolver dropped from his hand, clattering onto the concrete floor.
I opened my eyes.
Carmine was clutching his shoulder, blood rapidly soaking through his expensive gray suit. He stumbled backward, his predatory smirk completely gone, replaced by pure shock.
I turned around.
Standing in the doorway of the tunnel, holding a sleek, smoking pistol with a trembling hand, was Vanessa Bellini.
Her red silk dress was ruined with dirt and smoke. Her makeup was streaked with tears. But her eyes were fixed on Carmine with a terrifying, absolute hatred.
“You promised me he wouldn't suffer,” Vanessa sobbed, pointing the gun at Carmine’s chest. “You promised me if I slipped the poison in his drink, he would just go to sleep. You didn't tell me he would choke on his own blood for twenty minutes while I watched!”
Carmine groaned, pressing his hand against his bleeding shoulder. “Vanessa, you stupid girl. Put the gun down.”
“You used us!” Vanessa shrieked, taking a step forward. “You used my family to do your dirty work so your hands would stay clean! And then Julian tried to burn me alive!”
Luca lowered his gun, staring at his fiancée in shock.
Vanessa turned her red, tear-filled eyes toward Luca.
“I’m sorry, Luca,” Vanessa wept, her hand shaking violently. “I was so scared of my uncle. I was so scared of Carmine. I just wanted to survive. But I loved you. I really did love you.”
She looked back at Carmine. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“But I’m not running anymore.”
“Vanessa, don't!” Luca yelled.
But it was too late. Vanessa squeezed the trigger twice.
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Carmine Moretti collapsed onto the cold concrete floor, entirely lifeless.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of Vanessa dropping the gun and falling to her knees, weeping hysterically into her hands.
