Chapter 7 - THE FINAL RECKONING
Rain poured relentlessly over the rusted tracks of the railyard, washing the blood and soot into the gravel.
Luca gripped the heavy iron key in his hand. The siren wails of approaching police cruisers echoed in the distance, growing louder by the second.
“We have to go!” Elena pulled his arm, her eyes frantic. “Luca, please! For Leo!”
Luca looked at the boy, clutching the silver cross Marco had given him. He looked at Elena, a woman who had lost everything because of his family’s blind ambition.
And then he looked into the dark maze of train cars where his brother had just vanished.
“Take my car,” Luca said suddenly, pulling the SUV keys from his pocket and pressing them into Elena’s hands. “Drive north. Keep off the main highways. Don't stop until you reach the mountains.”
Elena froze. “What are you doing?”
“I let him fight my battles fifteen years ago,” Luca said, checking the magazine of his pistol. Three rounds left. “I’m not doing it again.”
“Luca, no!” Elena cried. “He told you to leave! He’s sacrificing himself for you!”
“I know,” Luca said softly. He reached out and touched Leo’s shoulder, offering a small, sad smile. “Take care of your mom, kid.”
Without looking back, Luca turned and sprinted into the darkness of the railyard.
The labyrinth of rusted freight cars felt like an iron graveyard. The rain drummed against the metal, masking the sound of footsteps. Luca moved swiftly, his eyes scanning the narrow corridors between the trains.
He heard a crash echoing from the far side of a coal car.
Luca rounded the corner, his gun raised.
At the end of a narrow gap between two boxcars, Marco had Vincent pinned against the rusted metal. Marco’s massive hand was wrapped around Vincent’s throat, lifting the traitor off the ground.
Vincent was choking, kicking his legs, his face turning a deep, violently purple hue.
Marco raised his combat knife, the blade catching the dim moonlight.
“This is for fifteen years in the dark,” Marco growled, his voice trembling with unadulterated rage.
“Marco, stop!” Luca shouted, running forward.
Marco didn't even look back. “Stay out of this, Luca! He’s mine!”
“If you kill him like this, you’re no better than he is!” Luca pleaded, lowering his gun. “Let him rot in a cell! We have the evidence! We have the wire transfers!”
Vincent laughed—a sickening, gurgling sound through his restricted windpipe. He stared down at Marco with bloodshot eyes.
“You… you think… a cell… will hold me?” Vincent gasped, spitting blood onto Marco’s face. “I own… the judges. I own… the cops. You let me live… I will hunt that woman… and her brat… to the ends of the earth.”
Marco’s eyes widened with fury. He raised the knife higher, ready to drive it into Vincent’s chest.
“Look in his pocket!” Vincent choked out, a maniacal smile spreading across his purple face. “Look… in his coat!”
Marco paused.
With his free hand, Marco ripped open Vincent’s ruined suit jacket.
Strapped to Vincent’s chest was a block of C4, a red light blinking steadily on the detonator.
Vincent held a small dead-man’s switch in his right hand. His thumb was pressed down tight on the button.
“If I let go…” Vincent gasped, smiling wickedly, “we all burn. Together. A family reunion in hell.”
Luca froze. The blast radius would vaporize them all.
Marco didn't flinch. He didn't drop Vincent. He just stared at the explosive, then looked up at Vincent’s gloating face.
“You think I care about dying?” Marco whispered.
Marco adjusted his grip, ready to drive the knife home and trigger the blast.
“Marco, no!” Luca screamed. “Think about your daughter! Think about the locket!”
Marco froze.
The knife hovered an inch from Vincent’s heart.
“I can find her,” Luca pleaded, taking a slow step forward. “If you blow us all to hell, who finds your daughter? Who tells her that her father loved her? Don't let this piece of garbage take that away from you!”
Marco’s breathing was ragged. He looked down at his own chest, where the silver locket hung hidden beneath his shirt. He looked at Vincent, who was still smiling, confident he had won.
Then, Marco looked at Luca.
“Take care of her, little brother,” Marco said.
Before Luca could react, Marco suddenly spun, hurling Vincent backward into the open door of an empty freight car.
Marco slammed the heavy iron door shut just as Vincent’s hand slipped from the detonator.
“GET DOWN!” Marco roared, tackling Luca to the gravel.
The freight car exploded.
A massive fireball ripped through the steel roof, sending shrapnel raining down across the yard. The concussive wave picked Luca and Marco up and slammed them brutally against the neighboring train car.
Ears ringing, vision blurred, Luca lay in the mud. The heat of the burning train washed over his face.
He slowly pushed himself up on his elbows. His entire body felt broken, but he was alive.
He looked to his right.
Marco was lying on his back, staring up at the pouring rain. A massive, jagged piece of shrapnel from the train door was buried deep in his abdomen.
“Marco!” Luca cried, scrambling over the gravel, ignoring the agonizing pain in his own ribs.
He fell to his knees beside his brother, pressing his hands desperately against the wound. The blood was warm, flowing entirely too fast.
“Hey… hey, I’ve got you,” Luca panicked, tearing off his jacket to apply pressure. “Just hold on! The sirens… they’re close! An ambulance will be here!”
Marco coughed, blood staining his teeth. He reached up, his trembling, blood-soaked hand grabbing Luca’s wrist.
“Stop,” Marco whispered. “It’s… it’s done.”
“No! You don't get to die on me again!” Luca yelled, tears mixing with the rain on his face. “We just found each other! You have to find your daughter!”
Marco smiled, a weak, peaceful expression settling over his scarred face. With trembling fingers, he reached into his shirt, breaking the chain of the silver locket.
He pressed it into Luca’s bloodstained hand.
“You find her,” Marco breathed, his voice barely a whisper against the rain. “Tell her… her daddy… fought the monsters.”
“Marco, please…” Luca sobbed, pressing his forehead against his brother’s chest.
“You were… a good king, Luca,” Marco sighed. “Now… be a good man.”
Marco’s hand slipped from Luca’s wrist, falling limp onto the wet gravel.
His chest stopped moving.
May you like
His eyes fixed on the dark, raining sky above.
Luca collapsed over his brother’s body, screaming into the storm, a sound of pure, shattered agony that echoed through the burning railyard, long after the sirens arrived.
