Chapter 5 - The Blood Oath
“His son,” Isabella gasped, stepping back from the photograph as if it were venomous. “The groom… he’s Carlo’s son? But they have different last names. The wedding invitation said he was a Moretti.”
Matteo stared at the photograph, his jaw locking so tight the muscle twitched visibly. The betrayal was layered, intricate, and deeply sickening.
“Carlo never claimed him,” Matteo said, his voice a dangerous, hollow whisper. “He had a child out of wedlock with a woman from the Moretti family decades ago. My father forbade Carlo from acknowledging the boy to prevent a blood feud between the families. I always thought Carlo accepted the ruling.”
Matteo looked at the young groom in the photo holding the gun. “He didn’t accept it. He raised the boy in secret. He turned his own son into a ghost, a hitman with no official ties to the Rossi family, so he could eliminate his enemies without drawing suspicion.”
Isabella’s mind raced, connecting the terrifying dots. “The wedding… it isn’t a union between two rival families. It’s Carlo officially bringing his secret son into power. They orchestrated the entire marriage to merge the families and steal your empire in one move.”
“And Arthur found out,” Matteo said, looking down at the heavy leather ledger resting in the metal box.
He opened the ledger. The pages weren’t filled with numbers or accounts. They were filled with Arthur Bennett’s frantic, meticulous handwriting. It was a detailed timeline, tracking Carlo’s embezzlements, his secret meetings with the Moretti family, and the assassinations ordered by Carlo and carried out by his hidden son.
Matteo flipped to the final page.
Lorenzo knows, Arthur had written. Carlo is moving against him tonight. I have hidden the true transfer papers in the only place Carlo will never look. If Lorenzo falls, the boy must be protected at all costs.
Matteo’s chest heaved. “My father didn’t abandon me. He was trying to stop his own brother.”
“Wait,” Isabella said, pointing to the bottom corner of the page. “Look at this.”
Beneath Arthur’s final entry was a string of random letters and numbers, written in a different colored ink. 74-B-9-WK.
“That’s not random,” Isabella said, her heart accelerating. “My dad used to play a game with me when I was little. We made treasure maps. He always used the same cipher to hide the final location. You skip every other letter. Read only the numbers.”
Matteo frowned, tracing his finger over the ink. “7… 4… 9.”
“749 West King Street,” Isabella breathed.
Matteo’s head snapped up. “That’s a shipping warehouse I own down by the docks. It’s been closed for renovations for six months.”
Before they could process the discovery, the deafening shatter of glass exploded through the terminal.
Isabella screamed as the heavy arched window above them completely disintegrated. Concrete dust rained down as high-caliber bullets tore through the rusted lockers behind them.
“Get down!” Matteo roared, tackling Isabella to the filthy floor just as a second volley of gunfire chewed through the wooden bench where they had been standing.
They were surrounded.
“Carlo didn’t wait,” Matteo hissed, shielding Isabella’s body with his own. He peered around the edge of the rusted lockers. Through the darkness, the red laser sights of three assault rifles swept across the terminal floor.
“Stay exactly behind me,” Matteo ordered. He shoved the ledger and the photograph into his coat pocket and drew his weapon.
“Matteo, we’re trapped!” Isabella panicked, covering her ears as another spray of bullets echoed like thunder.
“I don’t die in train stations,” Matteo said coldly.
He popped up from cover, firing three rapid, deafening shots into the darkness. A man cried out, and one of the laser sights dropped to the ground.
“Run to the access tunnels!” Matteo yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling her up.
They sprinted across the open concourse. Bullets sparked against the concrete at their feet. Isabella’s lungs burned, terror pushing her faster than she had ever run in her life. They reached a heavy iron maintenance door. Matteo kicked it open, shoving her into the pitch-black stairwell before slipping inside and throwing the heavy deadbolt.
Heavy footsteps pounded on the door a second later, followed by a furious barrage of gunfire that dented the iron but failed to pierce it.
“Keep moving!” Matteo urged, guiding her down the lightless stairs.
They emerged ten minutes later through a rusted grate in a storm drain two blocks away from the station. The rain was torrential now, washing the grime and dust from their clothes.
Matteo quickly led them through the dark alleyways, finally reaching the armored SUV he had parked remotely via his key fob to avoid detection.
They scrambled inside. Matteo locked the doors and finally turned on the overhead light.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, scanning her face.
Isabella shook her head, but as she moved, a sharp, searing pain tore through her upper left arm. She gasped, looking down. The sleeve of her white catering shirt was soaked in blood. A bullet had grazed her during the sprint.
“Dammit,” Matteo cursed softly.
He leaned over the center console. The intimidating mafia boss completely vanished, replaced by a man handling her with terrifying gentleness. He pulled a first aid kit from the glove box, slicing her sleeve open to reveal the shallow, bleeding gash.
“This is going to sting,” Matteo murmured, his eyes locking onto hers to distract her as he applied the antiseptic.
Isabella hissed, squeezing her eyes shut. But as she flinched, the top button of her catering uniform popped open, revealing the delicate silver chain she always wore around her neck.
Hanging from the chain was a small, intricately carved silver key.
Matteo froze, the gauze pausing against her arm. He stared at the key, the color draining from his face once again.
“Where did you get that?” Matteo asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Isabella looked down. “My dad gave it to me for my tenth birthday. He said it was for a diary, but it never fit any book I bought.”
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Matteo reached out, his warm fingers brushing against her collarbone as he lifted the silver key.
“Isabella,” Matteo said, his eyes filled with absolute awe and horror. “This isn’t for a diary. This is the master key to the Rossi family’s underground vault.”
