Chapter 8 - THE SILVER CANE
"No!" Norah lunged forward. She didn't think about the guns, the men, or the danger. The primal instinct to protect the fragile old man—her father—overrode every ounce of fear. She threw her body over Salvatore’s wheelchair, shielding him. Vincenzo laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "How poetic. The bastard daughter dies defending the crippled king." Dominic, clutching his bleeding shoulder, raised his gun from the floor. "Call them off, Vincenzo." "You don't have the numbers, Dominic," Vincenzo sneered. "Your secondary crew isn't coming. I bought them out years ago. You’ve been leading a hollow empire, too distracted by your daddy issues to see me digging your grave." Vincenzo stepped closer, the blade of the cane gleaming. "Rosa took the fall for my smuggling routes. Salvatore let the family believe he murdered her to preserve the 'honor' of the syndicate, all while secretly funneling money to the Feds to keep her hidden." Vincenzo looked at Salvatore with absolute disgust. "You broke Omertà to save a woman. You made us weak." Vincenzo raised the cane high. But Norah wasn't just a hospice nurse. She spent her days dealing with medical equipment, chemical compounds, and split-second emergencies. As Vincenzo brought the blade down, Norah grabbed the heavy, portable oxygen tank strapped to the back of Salvatore’s wheelchair. She wrenched the valve open all the way and hurled it toward the lit fireplace at the edge of the room. "Get down!" she screamed. Dominic tackled Vincenzo to the floor just as the highly pressurized oxygen hit the open flame. The explosion blew out the remaining glass in the room. A shockwave of heat and force threw Vincenzo's men backward into the hallway. The heavy curtains caught fire instantly, bathing the study in a hellish orange glow. In the chaos, Dominic didn't waste a second. He rolled over, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, and drove the butt of his gun directly into Vincenzo’s temple. The older man collapsed, unconscious. Sirens began wailing in the distance. Real sirens. Not mafia enforcers. Police. Norah scrambled to her feet. "Dominic, the cops are coming!" Dominic stood, kicking Vincenzo’s silver cane away. He looked at the unconscious men, the fire, and then at Norah. "I called them," Dominic said softly. Norah stared at him in shock. "You called the police on your own house?" "The old ways end tonight," Dominic said, his eyes finding his father in the wheelchair. Salvatore was covered in dust but unharmed, looking at his son with a mixture of shock and immense pride. "I’m done," Dominic said. "I’m done with the blood. I'm done with the secrets. We let them take Vincenzo and his crew. I have the files proving his treason to the federal government. He goes away forever." "What about you?" Norah asked, terrified. "I’m legitimate. I spent the last five years cleaning the family money. The FBI will search the place, but they won't find a single illegal ledger on me. Vincenzo just handed me the perfect excuse to burn the rest of the underworld bridges." Dominic walked over to Salvatore. He dropped to one knee in front of the wheelchair. "I'm sorry, Papa," Dominic whispered, the tough mafia boss finally breaking down, resting his forehead against his father’s trembling hand. "I'm so sorry I didn't know." Salvatore rested his hand on Dominic’s dark hair, stroking it gently. A broken, happy sound escaped his throat. Norah watched them, tears blurring her vision. Then, a small tug on her scrub pants made her look down. Leo was standing there, holding his teddy bear, unharmed. "Are the bad men gone?" the little boy asked. Norah knelt down and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Yes, sweetie. The bad men are gone."
