THE DEAD WOMAN’S SECRET

Luca crossed the concrete floor with the terrifying speed of a striking viper.

Before Victor could press the detonator, Luca slammed into him, driving his shoulder squarely into Victor's chest. The two men crashed into a stack of wooden crates, splintering the heavy wood in a shower of debris.

The detonator flew from Victor’s hand, skittering across the smooth, wet concrete floor.

"Emma, the detonator!" Luca roared, grappling with Victor as the older man pulled a combat knife from his ankle sheath.

I didn't hesitate. I threw myself across the floor, sliding on the wet concrete, my fingers scraping against the cold plastic of the detonator just as it reached the edge of the shipping bay doors. I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest, rolling away from the fight.

Victor slashed wildly with the knife, catching Luca’s forearm. Blood sprayed across the floor, but Luca didn't even flinch. He grabbed Victor’s wrist with his injured arm, twisting it backward with a sickening snap.

Victor howled in pain, dropping the knife.

Luca drove a brutal right hook into Victor’s jaw, sending the silver-haired boss crashing to the ground. Luca straddled him, pinning him to the concrete, his hands wrapping around the collar of Victor's ruined suit.

"You took my father!" Luca roared, his voice breaking with decades of suppressed grief and rage. "You took my mother! You tried to take my life!"

Victor laughed, spitting blood onto the concrete. He looked up at Luca, his eyes shining with a manic, unrepentant arrogance.

"I made you, Luca!" Victor wheezed, grinning through his shattered teeth. "You think you're a good man? You're just a killer in a nicer suit! You don't have the stomach to pull the trigger!"

Luca reached for the pistol tucked in his waistband. He aimed it directly at Victor's forehead. His hand was trembling, not from fear, but from the overwhelming weight of the vengeance he held.

"Luca, stop!"

Elena’s voice cut through the cavernous warehouse. Isabella had rushed forward and untied her, and now Elena stood leaning heavily against the chair.

"Don't do it, Luca," his mother pleaded, tears streaming down her pale face. "If you execute him like this, you become exactly what he is. You prove him right. Let the Commission deal with him. Let the world know what he did."

Luca stared down at the man who had ruined his family. His finger tightened on the trigger. The silence in the warehouse was agonizing, broken only by the sound of the rain pounding on the steel roof.

Slowly, agonizingly, Luca lowered the gun.

He stepped back, his chest heaving, wiping the blood from his forehead.

"You aren't worth the bullet," Luca said coldly. He turned to Isabella. "Call the Commission. Tell them Victor is alive and ready to face trial."

Victor lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, his arrogant smile fading into a look of absolute, venomous defeat. He had expected death. He hadn't expected to be rendered pathetic.

But Victor was a cornered rat, and rats always have one last trick.

With blinding speed, Victor reached inside his ruined vest and pulled a small, silver derringer pistol he had kept hidden. He didn't aim it at Luca.

He aimed it directly at Elena.

"If I don't get the empire," Victor screamed, "neither do you!"

"MOM!" Luca yelled, lunging forward, but he was too far away.

Two gunshots erupted simultaneously.

Victor's body jerked violently as a bullet tore through his chest, dropping him flat against the concrete.

I spun around.

Isabella stood with her rifle raised, smoke drifting from the barrel. She had shot her own father without a second of hesitation.

But Victor had managed to fire his tiny pistol as he fell.

Elena wasn't hit. She stood perfectly still, her eyes wide with shock.

I looked down.

A sharp, burning pain erupted in my left side. I looked at my white waitress shirt. A dark, crimson stain was rapidly blooming across the fabric just beneath my ribs.

I dropped the detonator. My knees buckled.

"Emma!"

Luca was there before I hit the floor. His strong arms caught me, lowering me gently to the concrete. He pressed his heavy hands directly over my wound, his face pale with terror.

"No, no, no, Emma, look at me," Luca commanded, his voice cracking with a desperation I had never heard before. "Stay with me."

My grandmother fell to her knees beside us, weeping openly, her trembling hands covering her face.

Victor, lying a few feet away, let out a final, wet, bubbling laugh.

"The poison... wasn't just on the plate," Victor gasped, his eyes locking onto mine, a cruel smile stretching across his dying face. "It was in the wine."

He took one last, rattling breath, and his eyes glazed over. Victor was dead.

I looked up at Luca. My vision was swimming. The edges of the warehouse were turning black.

"I didn't... I didn't drink the wine," I whispered, coughing weakly.

"I know," Luca said fiercely, tearing off his suit jacket and pressing it against my bleeding side. "He was just trying to scare you. It's just a bullet, Emma. You're going to be fine. You hear me? You saved my life tonight. I am not letting you die."

He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me effortlessly toward the warehouse doors. The cold rain hit my face, shocking me awake for a brief moment.

I looked up at the terrifying mafia boss. His gray eyes were filled with tears, pouring down his face as he ran toward the car.