The Child at the Wedding Table

The flashlight on the floor cast Arthur in a monstrous, upward-angled glow. His trench coat billowed like wings.

"Are you insane?" Vincent shouted, shifting his body to completely block Leo and Camilla. "He just saved your life by killing Marco!"

"Marco was going to double-cross me," Arthur sneered. "I heard him talking to his men upstairs. He was never going to let me walk out of here. But the boy... the boy is my ticket out. The Romano family will pay a fortune for Marco's secret bastard."

Elena felt sick. Her own father. Not a savior, not a victim, but a scavenger feeding on the misery of others.

"Dad, stop," Elena begged, stepping out from behind Vincent. "Please. He's just a little boy."

"Shut up, Ellie," Arthur snapped. "You don't know how the world works. I've survived twelve years in the dirt. I'm not going back."

He lunged forward, trying to grab Leo around Vincent’s side.

Elena didn't think. She reacted.

She threw herself at her father, tackling him around the waist. Her heavy dress tangled around his legs. Arthur shouted in surprise as they crashed into a towering wine rack. Hundreds of dusty bottles tumbled down, shattering on the stone floor, filling the air with the sharp, acidic stench of fermented grapes.

Arthur struck Elena hard across the face. The impact sent her sprawling into the puddle of wine and broken glass.

"Elena!" Vincent roared. He couldn't shoot—Elena and Arthur were too close together.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, raising his gun toward Vincent.

Vincent fired first.

But his wounded shoulder threw off his aim. The bullet clipped Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur screamed, wildly firing back.

A bullet tore through the air. Vincent grunted, stumbling backward and falling to one knee.

"Vincent!" Camilla screamed, dropping to the floor and covering Leo with her body.

Arthur, bleeding and panicked, realized he was losing control. He looked at the tunnel entrance, then at Camilla. He grabbed Camilla by the hair, dragging her violently to her feet.

"Mommy!" Leo screamed, trying to run to her.

Elena grabbed Leo’s ankle, pulling the boy back into her arms before Arthur could grab him too.

"Stay back!" Arthur yelled, dragging Camilla toward the dark mouth of the tunnel. "Anyone follows me, I blow her head off!"

He shoved Camilla into the darkness and disappeared after her, the heavy metal grate of the tunnel slamming shut behind them.

Silence fell over the basement, save for the dripping of shattered wine and the heavy, ragged breathing of Vincent Moretti.

Elena scrambled over the broken glass, ignoring the cuts on her hands and knees. She reached Vincent. He was slumped against a wooden crate, his hands pressing hard against his stomach.

Blood was pooling rapidly between his fingers.

"No, no, no," Elena sobbed, pressing her hands over his. "Vincent, look at me."

Vincent’s head lolled back. His skin was terrifyingly pale. He managed a weak, bloodstained smile. "You... ruined your dress."

"Shut up," she cried, tearing a massive strip of silk from the skirt of her gown. She bunched it up and pressed it hard against the gunshot wound in his abdomen.

As she leaned in, her knee hit something hard on the stone floor where Arthur had fallen.

She looked down.

Sitting in a puddle of wine was a silver rosary.

Elena recognized it instantly. The beads were slightly tarnished, the crucifix missing a tiny piece of silver on the left arm. It was her mother’s rosary. The one she was holding the night she died.

Elena picked it up with shaking, blood-stained fingers.

"He took it," Elena whispered, horror washing over her. "He didn't just leave the door open for the men who killed her. He took her necklace off her body before he ran."

Vincent coughed, a wet, rattling sound. He reached up with a trembling hand and touched Elena’s cheek.

"I'm sorry," Vincent whispered. "I couldn't protect you from the truth."

"You did," Elena cried, pressing her forehead against his chest. "You protected me from everything."

Leo crept closer, his small face streaked with tears. He knelt beside Vincent and touched his knee. "Papa?"

Vincent looked at the boy, his eyes softening. "Leo..."

"You have to get up," Leo said, his voice remarkably steady for a child. He pointed toward a corner of the basement, far away from the tunnel Arthur had taken. "We can't stay here. The smoke is coming."

Elena smelled it then. Woodsmoke. And chemical accelerant.