Chapter 2 - THE DOCTOR’S CONFESSION

“No!” I screamed, throwing my body over Elias.

Adrian didn’t hesitate. Even soaking wet, bleeding from a gunshot wound, and staring down a dozen automatic rifles, the man was a lethal predator.

He shoved me and Elias hard into the shadows of the concrete drainage pipe we had just fallen from, pulling his weapon in the same fluid motion.

But before Adrian could pull the trigger, a deep, booming voice echoed across the harbor.

“Stand down, Camilla!”

The headlights of the SUVs shifted as a massive black Lincoln Town Car rolled onto the pier, flanked by two armored security trucks.

Camilla’s men hesitated, their rifles wavering.

The rear door of the Town Car opened. An older man stepped out. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, walked with a silver-tipped cane, and possessed a face that was an older, harder version of Adrian’s.

Don Salvatore Moretti. Adrian’s father.

My heart hammered against my ribs. We were trapped between the two most dangerous people in the city.

“Salvatore,” Camilla hissed, her red lips twisting into a snarl. “This wasn’t our deal. You said I could have the boy once the mother was dealt with.”

“I said,” Don Moretti rumbled, his cane clicking against the pavement as he approached the edge of the canal, looking down at us in the mud, “that you could have the boy if he proved to be a liability. But looking at him now... he has my blood. He is a Moretti.”

Adrian stepped in front of me and Elias, his gun now aimed squarely at his own father’s chest.

“If you take one more step toward my son, I will kill you, old man,” Adrian promised, his voice devoid of any hesitation.

Don Moretti stopped. He looked at Adrian’s gun, then looked at me. His eyes were cold, calculating.

“Sarah,” the Don said, his voice surprisingly soft. “You survived the fire. You survived the memory wipe. And now you survive the drowning room. You are harder to kill than a cockroach.”

“Leave us alone,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, not fear. I gripped Elias tighter.

“I can’t do that,” the Don said simply. “Camilla wants the boy to legitimize her claim to the Corsetti throne. I want the boy because he is my only heir. The problem, Sarah, is you.”

He pointed his silver cane at me.

“A hotel maid. A street medic. You taint the bloodline. But I am a reasonable man,” the Don continued. “Adrian, give me the boy. We kill Camilla here and now. The Morettis wipe out the Corsettis tonight. We take full control of the city. And you can keep your little peasant girl as a mistress. But the boy comes with me. He will be raised as a true Boss.”

“Never,” Adrian spat.

“Take him!” Camilla suddenly shrieked to her men, realizing the Don was about to betray her.

Gunfire erupted.

It was absolute chaos. The Don’s men fired on Camilla’s men. Camilla’s men fired back. The night air was torn apart by the deafening roar of automatic weapons.

Adrian grabbed my hand. “Run! Into the warehouse!”

We scrambled up the muddy embankment under the cover of the firefight. Bullets chipped the concrete around our feet.

We burst through the side door of Pier 44’s main warehouse. Inside, it was a cavernous expanse of stacked shipping containers and heavy machinery.

“We need to get to higher ground,” Adrian said, breathing heavily. He was losing blood fast. His face was gray.

We climbed the metal stairs to the catwalk that overlooked the warehouse floor. Elias was entirely silent, his small arms locked around my neck.

“You’re bleeding again,” I said to Adrian, tearing a piece of my wet hotel uniform to tighten the makeshift tourniquet on his arm.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adrian gasped, leaning against the catwalk railing. “We have the ledger. We just need to get it to the Commission.”

“The Commission is already here, Adrian.”

We spun around.

Standing at the end of the catwalk, blocking our only exit, was a man in a sharp gray suit. He held a silenced pistol. Behind him stood two other men.

It was Adrian’s consigliere. His closest advisor. The man who was supposed to be running Adrian’s legitimate businesses.

“Marcus?” Adrian breathed, staring at his oldest friend.

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” Marcus said, raising his gun. “But the Don offered me your seat at the head of the table. You went soft the day you fell in love with a street rat. You’re not fit to lead the family anymore.”

Marcus aimed the gun directly at Elias.

“Hand over the boy, Sarah,” Marcus ordered coldly. “And I’ll make Adrian’s death quick.”

I looked down at the warehouse floor. Directly beneath the catwalk was a massive cargo crane, used to load shipping containers.

A memory slammed into my mind.

Sitting in the operator's booth of a harbor crane, eating a sandwich. A much younger version of myself. “Hey Sarah, show me how you drop the hook again?” a dockworker had asked.

Before I was a medic. Before I was a mother. I grew up working the docks to pay for night school.

I knew exactly how to operate the machinery below us.

I looked at Adrian. I didn't say a word, but he saw the shift in my eyes. He saw the memory return.

“Do it,” Adrian whispered.

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed a heavy steel wrench from a nearby toolkit on the catwalk.