Chapter 6 - THE GHOST IN THE CATACOMBS
“He’s alive?” Marco repeated, his voice cracking, completely devoid of the hardened edge he had carried all night.
He dropped to his knees beside Rosa, heedless of the blood pooling on the concrete. “Where? Where is he?”
Rosa’s eyes rolled back slightly, her breathing growing dangerously shallow. “The old convent… St. Jude’s… in the catacombs. Go. Before Carlo… realizes.”
Her head rolled to the side. She lost consciousness.
“Mom!” Luca screamed, shaking her gently. He pressed harder on her wound, his hands slick with her blood.
“Luca, we have to move her!” Marco shouted, snapping into survival mode. “Carlo’s men are retreating, but they’ll be back with reinforcements. We need a doctor!”
Luca nodded, his jaw set in a rictus of pure, terrifying focus. He scooped his mother into his arms, carrying her toward the armored SUV. Marco grabbed the shotgun from the floor, holding Mia tightly against his side, and followed.
They threw the back doors open. Luca laid Rosa gently across the leather seats.
“Drive,” Luca barked at Marco, tossing him the keys. “Take us to Dr. Rossi’s clinic in the North End. He owes the family.”
Marco jumped into the driver’s seat. Mia scrambled into the back, sitting by Rosa’s head, her tiny hands hovering over the bleeding woman with wide, terrified eyes.
Luca climbed into the passenger seat, his phone already out. He dialed his right-hand man, Matteo.
“Boss, where are you?” Matteo answered, the sound of sirens blaring in the background of the call. “The police are swarming the restaurant.”
“Forget the restaurant,” Luca ordered, his voice cold and commanding. “Carlo is the traitor. He ordered the hit on my father seventeen years ago. He is running a trafficking ring under our noses.”
Matteo cursed violently in Italian. “What are your orders, Boss?”
“Call every capo. Mobilize the entire family. Lock down the city limits. I want Carlo found, and I want him brought to me alive. He doesn't get a quick death.”
“Consider it done,” Matteo said. “And you?”
“I’m going ghost for a few hours. Mom is hit.”
“Christ. Is she—”
“She’s holding on. Send men to guard Rossi’s clinic.” Luca hung up.
Marco slammed the SUV into gear, tearing out of the shipyard and drifting onto the wet, empty streets. The rain washed the blood off the windshield.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the underground clinic. Dr. Rossi, an old mob surgeon who had patched up more bullet wounds than a combat medic, was waiting with a gurney.
They rushed Rosa into surgery.
Luca stood in the sterile hallway, his hands covered in his mother’s blood. He stared at the tiled floor, the adrenaline slowly fading, leaving a cold, hollow rage in its wake.
Mia was sitting on a plastic chair in the waiting room, finally safe, wrapping her arms around her worn stuffed rabbit. Elena burst through the clinic doors moments later, having been contacted by Marco from the car.
Elena collapsed onto her knees in front of Mia, sobbing uncontrollably as she buried her face in her daughter’s neck. Marco knelt beside them, wrapping his arms around his family.
Luca watched them. A family reunited, despite the horrors they had endured.
He looked down at his bloody hands, then slowly opened his right fist.
The rusted iron key sat heavily in his palm.
Marco stood up, wiping his eyes. He walked over to Luca, looking at the key.
“Seventeen years,” Marco whispered. “We thought he was dead. Why didn't she tell us?”
“Because Carlo thought he was dead, too,” Luca replied, his voice low. “If Carlo knew your father survived the shooting in the alley, he would have hunted him down. And he would have killed you and Elena to tie up loose ends. My mother didn't ruin your lives, Marco. She destroyed her own to protect yours.”
Marco swallowed hard, the guilt of his hatred washing over him. “Where is this St. Jude’s?”
“It’s an abandoned convent on the edge of the city,” Luca said, closing his fist around the key. “My father bought the land years ago to launder money, but my mother kept it in a blind trust. I never knew why.”
Luca walked over to a sink in the corner of the hallway and began scrubbing his mother’s blood off his hands.
“You stay here with Elena and Mia,” Luca said, grabbing a paper towel. “When Rossi is done, my men will move them to a safehouse. I’m going to St. Jude’s.”
“Like hell you are,” Marco said, stepping in front of him. “That’s my father in there. I’m going with you.”
Luca looked at the fierce determination in Marco’s eyes. He nodded once.
“Let’s go.”
They drove in a fresh, unmarked sedan taken from the clinic’s garage. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the city cloaked in a heavy, freezing fog.
St. Jude’s loomed at the end of a long, winding dirt road. It was a massive, gothic stone structure, its stained-glass windows blacked out with grime. The property looked utterly abandoned, choked by overgrown thorns and dead trees.
Luca and Marco approached the heavy oak front doors, flashlights drawn.
The door was unlocked.
Luca frowned. “My mother wouldn't leave it unlocked.”
They stepped inside. The air was frigid, smelling of incense and decay. They moved silently through the nave of the old chapel, their footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
Behind the altar, a heavy stone staircase led down into the darkness. The catacombs.
They descended, the air growing colder with every step. At the bottom of the stairs, they found a heavy iron door set into the stone wall. It had a rusted keyhole.
Luca inserted the key. It turned with a heavy, satisfying click.
He pushed the door open.
Inside was a small, warmly lit room. It was furnished simply—a bed, a bookshelf lined with worn novels, a small television, and a kitchenette. It didn't look like a prison. It looked like a sanctuary.
Sitting in a wheelchair by a small electric heater was an older man. His hair was completely white, and a terrible, jagged scar ran up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.
He was reading a book. When the door opened, he slowly looked up.
Marco dropped his gun. It clattered against the stone floor.
“Dad?” Marco whispered, his voice shattering into a thousand pieces.
Roberto, the driver, stared at the man in the doorway. He dropped his book. Tears instantly flooded his tired, kind eyes.
“Marco,” Roberto choked out, pushing himself up in the wheelchair, reaching his trembling hands forward. “My boy. My beautiful boy.”
Marco ran across the room and fell to his knees, burying his face in his father’s lap, sobbing like a child. Roberto wept, stroking his son’s hair, kissing the top of his head again and again.
Luca stood in the doorway, giving them the moment, feeling a lump rise in his own throat.
After a long minute, Roberto looked up at Luca.
“You have your father’s eyes, Luca,” Roberto smiled gently. “Rosa told me you had grown into a good man. I see she was right.”
“She saved you,” Luca said softly.
“She saved us all,” Roberto nodded, wiping his tears. “Carlo shot me in the neck that night. He thought I was dead. When Rosa fired the second shot into Vittorio, she made sure Carlo left the alley first. Then she dragged me into her car and brought me here. She hired a private doctor to save my life. I’ve been hiding here ever since, gathering the evidence.”
“Evidence?” Luca asked, stepping into the room.
Roberto reached under his mattress and pulled out a thick, leather-bound folder.
“Every offshore account, every shell company, every corrupt politician Carlo has bought over the last two decades,” Roberto said, handing the folder to Luca. “Your father stole it from Carlo before he died. He gave it to me to hide. This folder is enough to dismantle Carlo’s entire empire and put him in a black site for the rest of his miserable life.”
Luca took the folder. The weight of it felt like justice.
Suddenly, a slow, mocking applause echoed from the dark stone staircase behind Luca.
Luca spun around, raising his gun.
May you like
Stepping out of the shadows, wiping dirt off his tailored suit, was Don Carlo. Behind him stood six of his most elite assassins.
“Beautiful,” Carlo sneered, his eyes locked on the folder in Luca’s hand. “A family reunion. It almost brings a tear to my eye. Now, give me the folder, Luca. And I might just kill you quickly.”
