Chapter 7 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
Glass rained down like deadly shrapnel.
“Get down!” Dante roared, throwing his entire body over the booth, shielding me and Leo as automatic gunfire tore through the diner.
Rossi and his partner were instantly cut down by their own men firing blindly from the street. Enzo returned fire from the kitchen, screaming for us to move to the back.
I scrambled across the vinyl seat, clutching Leo desperately. The baby was screaming now, terrified by the deafening noise. I felt Dante’s hand grab my coat, pulling me toward the kitchen corridor.
As we reached the swinging doors, Dante suddenly grunted, his body jerking violently.
“Dante!” I screamed.
He stumbled, falling heavily against the stainless steel counter. Blood rapidly bloomed across the white fabric of his dress shirt, just below his ribs.
“Go!” Dante gasped, shoving me toward Enzo. “Get them out of here, Enzo!”
“I’m not leaving you!” I cried, grabbing his arm. “Help me lift him!”
Enzo didn’t argue. He holstered his weapon, hauling Dante’s massive frame over his shoulder while I held Leo and Dante’s discarded gun. We bolted out the back door, leaving the shattered diner behind.
We commandeered a rusted pickup truck parked with the keys still in the ignition. Enzo drove like a madman, weaving through alleys until we lost Silas’s pursuit.
Ten minutes later, we crashed through the chain-link fence of an abandoned Catholic church in the South Side. It was an old safe house, stripped bare but secure.
Enzo laid Dante onto a dusty wooden pew. Dante was pale, sweating profusely, his breathing shallow.
“Press down on it,” Enzo ordered, ripping Dante’s shirt open and pressing a makeshift bandage against the bullet wound. “I need to go to the stash box for medical supplies. Keep pressure on it, Alina!”
I handed Leo his pacifier to quiet him, setting him in a padded bassinet Enzo found. Then I placed both my hands over Dante’s wound, pressing down with all my weight. My hands were slick with my brother’s blood.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” I sobbed, staring into his gray eyes. “I just found you.”
Dante offered a weak, pain-tightened smile. He reached up, his bloody hand trembling as he touched the silver phoenix pendant around my neck.
“You have... her eyes,” he rasped. “Nora’s eyes. Stubborn.”
“Save your strength,” I pleaded.
“Listen to me,” Dante grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “The pendant. It’s not just a key to a bank account. Silas doesn't just want the money. He wants the deeds to the legitimate businesses. Without them, the Families won't recognize him as Don.”
“Where is the vault, Dante? How does this open it?”
Dante coughed, a terrible, wet sound. “Nora hid it. Before she ran... she hid the master ledger. She said she put it where the dragon meets the sky.”
I froze. Where the dragon meets the sky.
My mind flashed back to a memory I hadn't thought of in twenty years. When I was five, my mother and I lived in a tiny apartment. She used to draw with me. I had kept one specific drawing in my wallet for years because it was the only picture I had of her handwriting.
I reached into my blood-stained pocket, pulling out my wallet. From the plastic sleeve, I pulled out a folded, faded piece of paper.
It was a child’s drawing of the Chicago skyline. But in the center, my mother had meticulously sketched a massive, gothic gargoyle that looked exactly like a dragon, perched atop a specific building.
“The old Tribune Tower,” I whispered, staring at the drawing. “There’s a hidden safety deposit facility in the basement. She worked there before she met your father.”
Answer one: The vault wasn't at a bank. It was hidden in plain sight, guarded by the very stone dragon she drew for me.
Enzo rushed back in with a medical kit, instantly going to work on Dante’s wound.
“He’s losing too much blood,” Enzo said grimly. “I can patch the hole, but he needs a hospital. If we take him to a hospital, Silas will find us in minutes.”
I looked at Dante, bleeding out on the pew, and then at baby Leo, who was watching me with wide, innocent eyes.
If we stayed, Dante would die. If we ran, Silas would hunt us forever.
There was only one way to end this.
“Enzo,” I said, my voice hardening into steel. “Save his life. I’m going to make a phone call.”
Open two: Who was I calling?
I picked up Rossi’s dropped cell phone, which I had grabbed at the diner, and scrolled through the contacts until I found the name Silas.
I hit dial.
“Rossi, tell me they’re dead,” a smooth, aristocratic voice answered.
“Rossi is dead,” I said coldly. “This is Alina Reed Moretti. I have the pendant, and I know where the vault is.”
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A heavy pause hung on the line. Then, Silas chuckled. “My brilliant niece. What do you want?”
“I want a trade,” I said, staring at my brother’s pale face. “My life, and the ledger, in exchange for Dante and Leo’s freedom. Meet me at the Tribune Tower in one hour. Come alone.”
