Chapter 4 - THE HEAVY WOOL COAT
The rain hammered against the concrete overpass, drowning out the distant city sirens.
Caroline stood frozen, the heavy revolver shaking in her grip. The child's drawing lay in the puddle between her boots, the bright red crayon bleeding into the dirty water.
"He told me I was his only child," Caroline whispered, her voice cracking. "He told me Victoria murdered my mother and stole his empire. He raised me to destroy all of you."
"Carlo is a master of rewriting history," Victoria said, stepping out of the sedan, ignoring the guns pointed at her. She stood tall, wrapping her thin shawl around her shoulders. "He isolated you, Caroline. Just as he tried to isolate Michael. He uses his children as weapons, and when they break, he discards them."
Caroline looked at Michael, then at Sophia. The rigid indoctrination she had lived under for twenty-five years was violently crumbling.
"If I don't bring him the ledger tonight, he'll kill me," Caroline said, tears mixing with the rain on her face. "He has men waiting at the docks."
"Then we don't give him the ledger," Michael said. He knelt, picking up the ruined drawing, and handed it to Caroline. "We give him exactly what he deserves."
Before Caroline could answer, a sniper's bullet shattered the concrete barrier inches from her head.
"Ambush!" Brother Anthony roared.
The dark overpass erupted into chaos. High-powered rifles fired from the embankment above. Caroline’s supposed FBI backup—who were actually Carlo's loyalists—turned their weapons on her, realizing her hesitation.
"Get to the SUVs!" Caroline screamed, returning fire to cover them.
Michael grabbed Victoria, shielding her with his body as they sprinted toward Caroline's armored vehicle. Sophia and Brother Anthony laid down covering fire, taking out two of the shooters on the ridge.
They piled into the massive SUV. Caroline jumped into the driver's seat, shifting into reverse and slamming the gas. The heavy vehicle crushed through a chain-link fence, plunging down a muddy embankment and onto the lower service road, escaping the kill zone.
The cabin was dark and quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the five people inside.
Michael sat in the back, clutching the ledger to his chest. He looked at Victoria. The mafia queen was shivering violently, the cold and the adrenaline finally taking a toll on her fragile seventy-one-year-old body.
Michael took off his waiter's jacket, wrapping it around her, but it wasn't enough.
Brother Anthony reached into the back cargo area and pulled out a heavy, dark wool coat. He draped it over his sister's shoulders.
Victoria pulled the coat tight. But as her hands slipped into the deep pockets to warm her fingers, she froze.
She pulled something out of the right pocket.
It was a small, encrypted satellite phone.
Victoria looked at Caroline. "Why is there a direct-line satellite phone in this coat?"
Caroline glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "That's not my coat. I've never seen it before."
Brother Anthony's posture went completely rigid.
Michael noticed it. He looked at the older man, the uncle he had just met.
"Where did you get the car that picked us up at the restaurant?" Michael asked Brother Anthony, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"It was a stash car," Brother Anthony said quickly. Too quickly. "I prepped it weeks ago."
Victoria looked down at the satellite phone. The screen was illuminated. It showed an active, ongoing call.
Someone had been listening to every word they said in the car.
Victoria slowly raised her eyes to her brother. "You didn't prep that car to save me, did you, Anthony?"
Brother Anthony didn't answer. He slowly reached into his jacket, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol.
"You've been working with Carlo the whole time," Sophia breathed, pure horror washing over her face. "You didn't hide me in Europe to protect me. You kept me as a hostage."
"Carlo promised me half the territory," Brother Anthony said, his voice entirely devoid of remorse as he drew his weapon and aimed it at Victoria. "Pull over, Caroline. The game is over."
But Michael didn't freeze.
The twenty-four-year-old waiter, who had spent his life balancing trays and serving drinks, lunged forward. He wrapped the heavy leather ledger around Brother Anthony's wrist, violently twisting the gun away.
The weapon discharged, blowing a hole through the roof of the SUV.
Caroline slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded to a violent halt in an abandoned industrial park.
Michael threw a desperate punch, striking his uncle in the jaw. Brother Anthony slumped against the passenger door, momentarily stunned.
Michael grabbed the gun, pointing it at the man who had just betrayed them.
"Get out," Michael ordered, his hands shaking, but his voice resolute.
Brother Anthony wiped blood from his lip, smiling darkly. "You don't have the stomach to shoot me, boy. You're a waiter. Not a Romano."
Michael cocked the hammer. "I'm my father's son. Get out."
Brother Anthony slowly opened the door and stepped out into the rain. He looked at Victoria. "Carlo is at the docks. He has your fake grandson. He has Frank. You can't win this, Victoria."
Caroline floored the gas, leaving the traitor standing in the dark.
Victoria clutched the heavy wool coat around herself, looking at the young man who had just saved her life twice in one night.
"Michael," Victoria said softly.
Michael looked at her, the adrenaline fading, leaving him terrified of the world he had just been thrust into.
Victoria reached into the inner lining of the heavy wool coat. She felt a hard, metallic object stitched into the fabric. She ripped the seam open.
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She pulled out a small, tarnished silver key.
"My brother thought he was playing Carlo," Victoria said, a terrifying, beautiful smile touching her lips. "But Carlo doesn't share power. This key belongs to the private armory beneath the docks. Carlo brought it here to arm his men. And now, we're going to use it against him."
