Chapter 7 - THE STANDOFF
The beam of Briggs’s flashlight blinded us, but I didn't need to see clearly to feel the sheer malice radiating from Vanessa.
Vincent immediately stepped in front of me and Grace, shielding us with his massive frame. He slipped the gold watch into his pocket, his posture instantly shifting from a broken son to a lethal mafia boss.
“Vanessa,” Vincent said, his voice eerily calm. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Vanessa sneered, stepping carefully into the circular stone chamber to avoid the grime on the floor. “I’m cleaning up a mess that’s thirty years overdue. Grab them.”
Briggs and his men stepped forward, raising their weapons.
“Touch them, Briggs, and I will end your bloodline,” Vincent promised. It wasn't a threat; it was a dark, absolute guarantee.
Briggs hesitated, the gun trembling slightly in his grip.
“Don’t listen to him!” Vanessa snapped. “He has no power here anymore! My father’s men have already taken over the main gates. The Romano empire is ours tonight!”
“Because of a peace treaty?” Vincent scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You think your father can just walk into my territory and claim it?”
“I think,” Vanessa smiled coldly, “that when the tragic news breaks that Vincent Romano and his delusional ex-maid burned to death in a tragic estate fire, my father will naturally step in to manage the grieving family’s assets.”
She looked at me, her blue eyes filled with disgust.
“You ruined everything tonight, you little rat. If you hadn’t brought that brat and that stupid key, I would have married him. We would have taken the empire quietly.”
“You never wanted me,” Vincent realized, his voice laced with disgust. “You just wanted the seat of power.”
“My family earned it!” Vanessa screamed, her composure shattering. “Your grandfather used my father as a hitman! He treated us like attack dogs, paying us under the table to do his dirty work while you Romanos played royalty!”
“And when Matteo found out,” Vincent guessed, “your father happily agreed to kill him to cover it up.”
“Matteo was a nobody! A street orphan Giuseppe took pity on!” Vanessa spat. “He deserved to die! Just like he deserved to burn in Chicago eight years ago!”
My blood ran cold.
“It was you,” I whispered, stepping out slightly from behind Vincent. “You’re the one who found us in Chicago.”
Vanessa laughed. “I was barely twenty, but yes. My father sent me to tie up loose ends. I was so angry when I found out Matteo had escaped the fire. But getting rid of his pathetic wife was a decent consolation prize.”
A blinding rage erupted in my chest. This pampered, cruel woman in her red silk dress had murdered my mother.
I lunged forward.
“Hannah, no!” Vincent yelled, reaching for me.
But I was too fast. I slammed into Vanessa, driving her backward into the stone wall. She screamed as my hands found her throat. I didn't care about the guns. I didn't care about the guards. I only saw the flames that had consumed my mother.
Vanessa clawed wildly at my face, but I held on with a strength born of pure grief.
“Get her off me!” Vanessa shrieked.
Briggs grabbed my hair and violently yanked me backward, throwing me onto the hard stone floor. My head cracked against the bricks, making my vision swim.
“Mommy!” Grace screamed, trying to run to me.
Briggs caught Grace by the arm, lifting her slightly off the ground.
“Let her go!” Vincent roared.
Vincent moved faster than any man his size should be able to. He didn't go for Briggs’s gun; he went for his throat. Vincent slammed the massive security chief against the wall, driving his knee into Briggs’s ribs with a sickening crunch.
Briggs dropped Grace, gasping for air as Vincent’s tattooed hands crushed his windpipe.
The three other guards immediately cocked their weapons, aiming directly at Vincent’s back.
“Stop!” Vanessa screamed, pulling a small silver pistol from a holster strapped to her thigh beneath her gown. She pointed it directly at my head as I struggled to sit up.
Vincent froze, his hands still locked around Briggs’s throat.
“Let him go, Vincent, or I put a bullet in her brain right now,” Vanessa panted, blood trickling from a scratch on her cheek where I had clawed her.
Vincent slowly released Briggs. The large man collapsed to the floor, hacking and gasping.
Vincent turned around, his hands raised slowly.
“Let Hannah and the girl go,” Vincent said, his voice surprisingly soft. “This is between us, Vanessa. They have nothing to do with this.”
“They have everything to do with this!” Vanessa cried, her hand shaking as she kept the gun aimed at me. “She’s Matteo’s heir! As long as she’s alive, the syndicate will never fully accept my father’s rule. She’s Romano blood by adoption!”
“She doesn't want the empire,” Vincent pleaded, taking a slow step toward her. “Look at her, Vanessa. She just wants to be safe. Let them walk out of this tunnel, and I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll give you the accounts, the properties, everything.”
Vanessa’s eyes flickered with greed for a fraction of a second, but then hardened.
“My father said no survivors this time.”
She clicked the safety off the pistol.
“No!” Vincent yelled, lunging toward me to shield my body with his own.
I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around Grace, bracing for the gunshot.
BANG.
The deafening crack of a gunshot echoed in the small stone chamber.
But I didn't feel the bullet.
Vincent didn't fall.
I opened my eyes slowly.
Vanessa was standing frozen, her eyes wide with shock. Her pistol slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the stone floor. She looked down at her chest, where a dark crimson stain was rapidly blooming across the red silk of her gown.
She collapsed to her knees, then fell sideways, lifeless.
The three guards spun around, aiming their flashlights and guns down the dark tunnel behind Vanessa.
Stepping out of the shadows, holding a smoking revolver, was a man I hadn't seen in eight years.
His hair was entirely gray now, his face lined with age and hardship, but his eyes were exactly as I remembered them. Warm, fierce, and entirely unbroken.
“Dad?” I whispered.
May you like
Matteo lowered his gun.
“Hello, little bird,” he said softly.
