Chapter 8 - BLOOD ON THE SNOW
The shotgun blasted into the ceiling as Vincent was ripped off his feet, showering the wine cellar in plaster and dust.
I covered Chloe’s ears, screaming as the two men crashed into the wine racks. Bottles shattered, spilling red wine across the stone floor like pooling blood.
Vincent clawed at his throat, gasping for air, thrashing wildly to dislodge the larger man. But James was a force of nature. Despite bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound in his left shoulder, James held the wire tight, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying coldness.
With a brutal twist, James incapacitated him. Vincent slumped to the floor, unconscious and gasping for breath.
James dropped the wire, immediately staggering sideways. He gripped a shattered wine rack to keep from falling, his breathing ragged. The left sleeve of his white dress shirt was soaked in dark crimson blood.
"James!" I yelled, rushing forward.
"Stay back," he grunted, pulling his sidearm and sweeping the dark cellar. "Are there others?"
"I don't know," I panicked, grabbing a clean kitchen towel from the panic room's emergency kit and pressing it hard against his bleeding shoulder. He winced, his jaw clenching tight.
"Marcus took out two in the courtyard," James rasped, leaning heavily against the wall. "The rest scattered when the alarms triggered the local police scanners. They know they have minutes before the cops swarm this place."
He looked down at me. His eyes were losing focus, the blood loss taking a rapid toll. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," I cried, pressing harder on the wound. "We're okay. We're okay. Just hold on."
Chloe slowly peeked out from the panic room. She saw James bleeding and began to cry quietly. She walked over and picked up the warped silver rosary from the floor where it had fallen. She held it out to him.
James looked at the rosary, a faint, sad smile touching his pale lips. He took it with a trembling, bloodstained hand.
"She pulled me out of the fire," he whispered, staring at the warped silver. "Your mother. I was a street rat. No one cared if I burned. She dragged me out. She gave me her coat. She gave me this."
"I know," I cried, tears spilling down my face. "You don't owe us anymore, James. You paid the debt."
"A debt to an angel is never fully paid," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut.
Suddenly, the blinding glare of red and blue lights pierced the high basement windows. Sirens wailed loudly outside. Boots pounded on the floorboards above.
"Police! Boston PD! Drop your weapons!"
Heavy footsteps thundered down the basement stairs. A squad of armed police officers burst into the wine cellar, flashlights cutting through the dust.
At the front of the pack was a tall, sharp-featured detective in a tan trench coat. He lowered his gun, taking in the scene: the shattered wine bottles, the unconscious Vincent, the bleeding mafia boss, and me, a frantic mother holding a bloody towel.
The detective sneered. I recognized the look in his eyes immediately—it was the same corrupt arrogance Vincent had.
"Well, well. Look at the mess, Moretti," the detective said smoothly, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. He looked at me, his eyes lingering on Chloe.
"Grace Bennett," the detective said coldly. "We got a tip from a reliable source that there was an illegal syndicate war happening here. And look at this. A child in a warzone."
"He saved us!" I yelled. "That man on the floor tried to kill us!"
"Save it for the judge," the detective snapped. He turned to one of his officers. "Arrest Moretti. And call Child Protective Services. This woman is an unfit mother associating with known felons. We're taking the kid into state custody tonight."
"No!" I screamed, lunging in front of Chloe.
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But before the officers could grab me, James forced his eyes open. He pushed himself off the wall, standing tall despite the blood pouring from his shoulder.
"Detective Miller," James said, his voice echoing through the cellar like thunder. "If you touch that child, I will make sure the file containing the offshore bank accounts the Romanos set up for you lands on the District Attorney's desk in exactly five minutes."
