Chapter 6 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE SAFE
The Bellini compound sat on a sprawling cliffside overlooking the stormy Atlantic.
It wasn’t a house; it was a fortress. High stone walls topped with razor wire surrounded the perimeter, and heavily armed guards patrolled the iron gates. It was the epicenter of the most ruthless crime syndicate in the state.
Luca parked the armored SUV in a dense grove of pine trees a quarter-mile from the walls. The rain was torrential now, a freezing downpour that soaked us to the bone the moment we stepped out of the vehicle.
“Ruth, stay in the car,” Luca ordered, handing her the keys and a spare handgun. “Lock the doors. Do not open them for anyone but me or Claire.”
Ruth gripped the gun with trembling hands but nodded fiercely. “Bring her back, Luca. Bring my girl back.”
Luca looked at me. My black-and-white maid’s uniform was mud-stained and soaked, clinging to my freezing skin. I had no weapons, no training, and no business storming a mafia stronghold.
But my sister was in there.
“Stay behind me,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the roar of the storm. “We don’t engage unless we have to. We find the holding cells, we find Sarah, and we get out. Understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my teeth chattering.
We moved swiftly through the darkness, using the thick tree line for cover until we reached the towering stone wall.
Luca didn't go for the front gate. He led me around the perimeter to a drainage grate covered in thick ivy. With a grunt of effort, he grabbed the heavy iron bars and hauled the grate aside.
“Vanessa’s father is paranoid,” Luca whispered, helping me slide into the narrow concrete pipe. “He built a fallout bunker under the estate. This drainage pipe connects to the lower ventilation shafts. I saw the blueprints years ago when our families were still allies.”
We crawled through the pitch-black, freezing water. The smell of mildew and rusted iron filled my nose. My knees scraped against the concrete, but I didn't make a sound. Every inch forward was an inch closer to Sarah.
After what felt like an eternity, Luca pushed a heavy metal grate upward.
We climbed out into a dimly lit, concrete corridor. We were deep underground. The air was dry and smelled strongly of stale cigarette smoke and bleach.
“The holding cells are at the end of this hall,” Luca mouthed, drawing his silver pistol.
We crept forward, keeping our backs pinned against the cold concrete wall.
Suddenly, a heavy metal door swung open ten feet ahead of us.
Two Bellini guards stepped out, laughing about something, lighting cigarettes.
Luca didn't hesitate. He lunged forward with terrifying speed. He slammed the butt of his pistol into the temple of the first guard, knocking him out instantly. Before the second guard could even draw breath to shout, Luca swept his legs out from under him and clamped a hand over his mouth, pinning him to the floor.
“Make a sound and I’ll break your neck,” Luca hissed into the guard’s ear.
The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide with terror.
“Where is the girl?” Luca demanded. “Sarah Bennett. Where are you holding her?”
The guard swallowed hard, his voice shaking. “Cell three. Down the hall. But you’re too late, Moretti. The boss is already down there with her.”
Luca’s jaw clenched. He struck the man hard behind the ear, rendering him unconscious, and dragged both bodies into a nearby utility closet.
“Luca,” I whispered, panic rising. “If Vanessa’s father is with her…”
“We don’t stop,” Luca said, his eyes dark.
We ran down the corridor until we reached a heavy iron door marked with a painted number 3.
The door was slightly ajar.
From inside, I heard a voice that made my blood run cold. It was a man’s voice, smooth, aristocratic, and dripping with cruel amusement. Don Bellini. Vanessa’s father.
“You’ve been very brave, Sarah,” Bellini’s voice echoed out into the hall. “Sitting in this cell for three months. Enduring the cold. And for what? A mother who is already dead? A sister who is scrubbing floors in my daughter’s future home?”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.
“You’re going to lose everything, you old monster,” a female voice spat back.
My heart leapt into my throat.
It was Sarah. Her voice was raspy, weak, but filled with absolute defiance.
“Lose everything?” Bellini laughed. “Marco Moretti just called me. He took over the Moretti estate tonight. Luca is dead or on the run. My daughter will inherit the empire. And the ledger your mother stole? Marco’s men are burning down the foster home as we speak.”
“Let them burn it,” Sarah laughed, a bitter, triumphant sound. “There’s nothing there. The ledger was never there.”
“I know,” Bellini said softly.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed inside the cell.
“Marco is a fool,” Bellini continued. “He thought your mother hid it in the walls. But I knew your mother better than that. She was practical. She wouldn't hide billions of dollars of evidence in an empty house. She would keep it close.”
A terrifying silence followed.
“Take off the coat, Sarah.”
My eyes widened in horror.
“No,” Sarah said, her voice dropping its defiance, replaced by sudden, raw panic.
“Take off the heavy wool coat,” Bellini ordered, his voice turning lethal. “You’ve been wearing it since my men picked you up. Even in the sweltering heat of the cell, you refused to take it off. I thought it was sentimental attachment. But then I felt how heavy it was.”
“Don't touch me!” Sarah screamed.
The sound of a struggle echoed from the room.
Luca didn't wait another second.
He kicked the iron door open with the force of a battering ram.
We burst into the cell.
The room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light. Sarah was chained to a chair in the center of the room. She looked so much older, her face bruised and pale, but her eyes were the exact same shade of blue as mine.
She was wearing a massive, oversized navy-blue wool coat.
Standing over her was Don Bellini, holding a hunting knife. Two armed guards flanked him.
Bellini looked up, his aristocratic face twisting in shock.
“Luca?” Bellini gasped.
“Drop the knife,” Luca roared, leveling his pistol directly at Bellini’s head.
The two guards immediately raised their weapons, but they were too slow. Luca fired twice, dropping both men with terrifying precision before they could even pull their triggers.
Bellini froze, the knife pressed dangerously close to Sarah’s neck.
“One more step, Luca, and I slit her throat,” Bellini sneered, recovering his composure. He used Sarah as a human shield, pressing the blade against her skin.
“Claire!” Sarah cried out, seeing me in the doorway. Tears flooded her eyes. “You’re here!”
“I’m here, Sarah,” I sobbed, stepping forward. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Listen to me, Luca,” Bellini said calmly. “You have no men. You are in the heart of my compound. If you shoot me, an alarm sounds, and fifty men will be in this room in thirty seconds. You will never make it out alive.”
Luca stood perfectly still, his gun aimed dead center at Bellini’s forehead.
“You’re right, Don Bellini,” Luca said, his voice eerily calm. “If I shoot you, I die.”
Luca slowly lowered his gun.
My heart stopped. What was he doing?
Luca reached into his jacket pocket. He didn't pull out another weapon.
He pulled out the faded, framed photograph of his father and my mother. He tossed it onto the concrete floor at Bellini’s feet. The glass shattered.
Bellini looked down.
For the first time, the mafia boss looked genuinely terrified.
“Where did you get that?” Bellini whispered, the knife trembling in his hand.
“My father’s safe,” Luca replied coldly. “Look closely at the background, Bellini. Look at the child standing in the window of the foster home behind them.”
I stared at the shattered photograph on the floor. In the background, looking out the window of the blue door, was a young boy.
May you like
A boy with distinct, aristocratic features.
“You see, Bellini,” Luca said, his voice echoing in the concrete cell. “I didn't just find out about Sarah tonight. I found out the truth about Vanessa.”
