Chapter 8 - THE CONFRONTATION
"Stay behind me," Lorenzo ordered, stepping in front of me to shield my body. Even wounded, his presence commanded the room.
"Oh, how romantic," Celeste sneered, descending the short marble steps into the vault lobby. "The mob boss protecting the poor, helpless waitress. It’s pathetic, Lorenzo. Your father was weak, too. That’s why we killed him."
"You bankrupted your own family, Celeste," Lorenzo shot back, his voice echoing in the cavernous bank. "You stole from the cartels, lost it all, and tried to frame my father to cover your tracks. When Thomas Carter found out, you slaughtered an innocent man."
"And tonight, I finish the job," Celeste smiled. She raised her gun. "Kill them."
"I wouldn't do that," Lorenzo said. He didn't raise his hands. He didn't cower. He just smiled—a dark, terrifying smile that made Celeste hesitate.
"Bluffing doesn't suit you," she snapped.
"I'm not bluffing. Take a look outside," Lorenzo said.
Celeste frowned, glancing over her shoulder toward the massive glass front doors of the bank.
Flashing blue and red lights painted the falling snow. Dozens of them. The wail of sirens suddenly cut through the silence of the night, surrounding the building.
"You called the cops?" Gilbert gasped, taking a panicked step backward. "You're a mob boss! You don't call the cops!"
"I don't," Lorenzo said. "But the FBI task force I've been feeding breadcrumbs to for three years was very interested in the exact coordinates of my burner phone. Especially when I told them they'd catch the head of the Vane family holding a stolen gun in my bank."
"You son of a bitch!" Celeste shrieked.
Panic erupted among her men. Sirens blared outside, and a megaphone ordered them to drop their weapons. The hired muscle immediately threw their guns to the marble floor, raising their hands. They weren't dying for a bankrupt heiress.
But Celeste was unhinged.
"If I go down, you die with me!" she screamed, swinging her silver pistol directly toward my face.
She fired.
Everything moved in slow motion. I heard the deafening crack. But I didn't feel the impact.
Lorenzo threw his entire body weight into me, tackling me to the marble floor.
I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of my lungs. Above me, the glass partitions of the teller desks shattered as FBI agents stormed the building in full tactical gear, screaming orders.
"Drop it! Drop the weapon!"
Celeste fired wildly at the doors before an agent tackled her to the ground, pinning her wrists behind her back. She thrashed and screamed like a wild animal, her perfectly styled hair falling over her face. Gilbert was already on his knees, crying and begging for a deal.
The chaos of the arrest faded into white noise.
I pushed myself up, my hands shaking. "Lorenzo?"
He was lying on his side on the marble floor. His eyes were open, but they were unfocused. Blood was pooling rapidly beneath him, a stark, terrifying red against the white marble.
"Lorenzo!" I screamed, pressing my hands frantically against his chest where the bullet had caught him. "Help! Somebody help us!"
He coughed, his hand weakly reaching up to grip my wrist.
"Did they... get her?" he whispered, his voice incredibly faint.
"They got her. They have the ledger. It's over," I sobbed, putting pressure on the wound. "Please, stay with me. You promised me we weren't alone anymore."
He smiled softly, his thumb brushing a tear from my cheek. "I always keep... my promises."
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His hand went limp. His eyes closed.
"No!" I screamed as paramedics swarmed us, pulling me away from the only man who had ever made me feel safe.
