Chapter 6 - THE MAFIA BOSS'S DOUBT
The lockdown alarms blared through the massive estate, a piercing, rhythmic wail that cut through the storm.
Heavy steel shutters descended over the ground-floor windows. The iron gates at the perimeter magnetically sealed.
Vincent Russo was in the library pouring himself a celebratory drink when the alarms started. He froze, the decanter hovering over the glass.
Vivian rushed into the room, her face pale. "What's happening? Did the girl die?"
"No," Vincent snarled, drawing his weapon. "This is a full perimeter lockdown. Lorenzo knows."
"How could he know?!" Vivian shrieked. "You said you covered your tracks!"
"Shut up!" Vincent barked. He keyed his radio. "Bravo team, report."
Static.
He tried again. "Bravo team, what's your status?"
"Bravo team is currently bleeding out in the west wing corridor," Lorenzo's deep, lethal voice crackled over the radio frequency. "You're next, Vincent."
Vincent dropped the radio. "We have to move. Now."
Downstairs, Lorenzo was a force of nature. The grief and panic over his daughter's failing heart had crystallized into pure, unadulterated violence.
He moved through his own home like a phantom. Two of Vincent’s loyalists tried to ambush him in the grand foyer. Lorenzo didn't even break his stride. Two suppressed shots echoed, and the men dropped.
Marco was at his side, armed with an assault rifle. "Boss, the doctor says Isabella's heart rate is stabilizing, but she needs the real medication. The backup stash is compromised. Everything in the safe is the fake pills."
Lorenzo gritted his teeth. "Where are the real pills?"
"They were in the pink backpack," Marco realized with horror. "The one we threw out."
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
He had thrown the cure out into the freezing rain. With the woman he had falsely accused.
"Get me eyes on the perimeter road," Lorenzo ordered, sprinting toward the security hub. "Find Sophia!"
Ten miles away, Sophia was huddled beneath the awning of a closed gas station. She had broken a window to get inside the small convenience store to keep Emma out of the freezing rain.
Emma was pale, her breathing shallow. The cold was putting a massive strain on her own defective heart.
"Mama," Emma whispered, her eyes half-closed. "Heart tired."
"I know, baby. I know," Sophia sobbed, rubbing the child's arms to generate heat.
Sophia reached into her pocket to get Emma's medication.
Her fingers brushed against something hard. A bottle.
She pulled it out.
It wasn't Emma's medicine.
In the chaos of packing, Sophia had grabbed the bottles from the floor that the guards had dumped. In the dark, she hadn't looked at the labels.
She held the bottle up to the dim streetlight filtering through the window.
Isabella Moretti. Take as directed.
Sophia gasped. She had Isabella's real medication.
She had to get back.
But as she stood up, headlights swept across the gas station parking lot.
The black SUV pulled in, its tires crunching over the broken glass.
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Four men stepped out, armed with silenced weapons. Vincent's hit squad. They had tracked her down.
Sophia grabbed Emma, clutched the pill bottle to her chest, and ran toward the back door of the gas station.
