THE 10-YEAR-OLD WAITER AND THE CHICAGO BOSS

The gunshot rang out with deafening finality.

Harlan’s eyes went wide. His grip on Noah’s mother loosened instantly. He collapsed onto the concrete, gasping for air, clutching his chest.

Noah’s mother stumbled forward, coughing and sobbing. Noah broke free from Vincent’s grip and sprinted to her, burying himself in her arms. She collapsed to her knees, rocking him back and forth on the dirty floor.

Vivienne lowered the smoking gun. Her hands were shaking violently. The cold, calculating mastermind was gone. She just looked exhausted.

Vincent walked slowly toward Harlan. The manager was bleeding out, his expensive coat ruined.

"You played a long game, Harlan," Vincent said, standing over him. "But you underestimated everyone. You underestimated her." He pointed at Vivienne. "And you underestimated the kid."

Harlan choked on his own blood, a bitter smile still on his lips. "It... doesn't matter. The syndicate... knows you're weak, Vince. They'll... finish it."

His eyes glazed over, staring up at the rusted ceiling.

Vincent turned away. He walked over to Vivienne. She was staring at the gun in her hand as if it were a poisonous snake.

"You can kill me now, Vincent," she whispered, a tear finally escaping and cutting a clean line down her dirty cheek. "I destroyed your business. I killed your men. I tried to put a bullet in your head."

Vincent looked at her for a long time.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old, tarnished silver rosary she had dropped earlier. He gently placed it into her shaking hand.

"Twenty years ago, I found you hiding in a closet after your father was murdered," Vincent said softly. "I took this rosary off his chest and gave it to you so you would have something to hold onto. I swore I would protect you. I failed."

Vivienne squeezed the rosary, sobbing openly now.

"Go," Vincent said.

Vivienne looked up, stunned. "What?"

"Harlan's right. The syndicate will come for whoever survived tonight. There’s a private jet waiting at O'Hare under the name Cross. It was supposed to be for our honeymoon." Vincent’s voice was perfectly steady, but his eyes carried a deep, unnamable grief. "Take it. Disappear."

"Vincent, I..."

"Go, Vivienne," he commanded. "Before I change my mind."

She turned and ran into the rain, disappearing into the dark without looking back.

Vincent stood in silence for a moment. Then, he turned to Noah and his mother.

Noah’s mother flinched as the mafia boss approached, pulling her son tighter.

"Mrs. Bennett," Vincent said, his tone softening dramatically. He crouched down so he was at eye level with them. "I am profoundly sorry for what my world brought to your door tonight."

"Just let us go," she wept. "Please. We won't say anything. Just let us go."

"I can't do that," Vincent said.

Noah’s mother let out a terrified sob.

"I can't let you go back to that apartment," Vincent corrected gently. "Harlan’s men know where you live. My enemies know who you are. You aren't safe in Chicago anymore."

Noah looked at Vincent. "Where are we supposed to go? We don't have any money."

Vincent reached into his coat and pulled out a thick, sealed envelope. He handed it to Noah’s mother.

"Inside is cash. A lot of it. And the deed to a small, quiet restaurant in a town in upstate New York. It’s in your name." Vincent stood up. "A car will be waiting for you outside in ten minutes. It will take you to a private airfield."

Noah’s mother stared at the envelope, trembling. "Why are you doing this for us?"

Vincent looked down at Noah. The ten-year-old boy who had noticed everything the adults missed. The boy who had saved his life with a silver tray and a red grease pencil.

"Because a debt is a debt," Vincent said. "And your son paid mine in full."

Vincent turned to walk away, his dark coat billowing behind him.

"Mr. DeLuca!" Noah called out.

Vincent stopped, looking back over his shoulder.

Noah stood up. "Are you going to be okay?"