Chapter 4 - PIECES OF A FATAL PUZZLE
Marco dragged me down the rear servant staircase like a sack of laundry.
My knees hit the sharp wooden corners of each step, sending sharp flashes of pain through my shins.
The dizziness in my head made the walls swim in sickening spirals, but the sheer panic kept my consciousness anchored by a thread.
"Get up, you clumsy bitch."
Marco grunted, wrenching my arm behind my back as we reached the sub-level landing.
The basement was vast, divided into three distinct sections: the old wine cellar, the domestic changing quarters, and the sealed west access corridor.
The air down here was always cold, but tonight it felt like the inside of a meat locker.
As Marco shoved me through the heavy metal fire door into the locker hallway, the faint sound of steel scraping against stone echoed from the far corridor.
Marco stopped dead in his tracks.
His grip on my shoulder tightened.
"What was that?"
He muttered, his hand dropping toward the holster beneath his leather jacket.
"It’s... it’s the old boiler."
I lied quickly, my voice trembling.
"The pressure valves leak during the night."
Marco stared down the dark intersecting corridor that led toward the music room's foundation.
A faint yellow light was flickering against the damp brick wall forty yards away.
He knew that section was supposed to be completely deserted.
"Stay right there."
He growled, pulling a suppressed semi-automatic pistol from his belt.
He pushed me violently into the row of green metal lockers, causing the steel doors to bang loudly.
The moment Marco turned his back to investigate the light, survival instinct completely overrode my fear.
I didn't run toward the exterior exit.
There were three armed guards stationed at the courtyard gates who answered directly to Vanessa’s family.
Instead, I reached into the narrow utility gap between my locker and the wall.
My fingers closed around the cold, heavy handle of a twelve-inch iron pipe wrench I had used two days ago to clear a clogged laundry drain.
I stepped out of the shadows.
Marco was creeping toward the corner of the brick corridor, his weapon raised, his eyes focused on the flickering lantern light.
He took two steps past the wooden threshold.
I lunged forward with every remaining ounce of strength in my battered body.
I brought the iron wrench down across the side of his knee with a sickening, hollow crack.
Marco let out a strangled, breathless howl as his joint buckled inward.
He collapsed onto his good hip, his pistol skittering across the smooth concrete floor.
Before he could roll over and grab his knife, I kicked the fallen gun down the dark corridor toward the light.
"Help!"
I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice tearing through the subterranean silence.
"Help me! Please!"
Marco lunged upward, his fingers clawing at the hem of my skirt, his face contorted in murderous rage.
"I'll tear your throat out—"
A sound like thunder cracked through the stone corridor.
A single high-caliber bullet tore through the concrete three inches from Marco’s outstretched hand, sending razor-sharp fragments of stone biting into his cheek.
Marco froze.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my back hitting the opposite wall.
Emerging from the darkness of the west corridor was Luca Moretti.
He had stripped off his tuxedo jacket, wearing only his white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing thick forearms covered in old scars.
His face was completely devoid of humanity.
He looked like a demon walking out of the underworld.
In his right hand, he held a heavy tactical pistol, wisps of blue smoke trailing from the barrel.
Behind him, Daniel was supporting a frail, trembling figure wrapped in Luca’s black wool coat—Elena.
"Marco Vane."
Luca said, his voice flat, dead, and echoing with absolute finality.
"Don Bellini’s personal hitman."
Marco tried to drag himself backward along the floor, his face draining of all color as he looked past Luca’s shoulder and saw the girl in the wool coat.
"Boss... Luca... wait, listen to me—"
Luca didn't listen.
He stepped forward, raised his heavy leather boot, and brought his heel down onto Marco’s already shattered knee.
The sound of bone splintering was followed by a scream that was cut short when Luca pressed the smoking barrel of his pistol directly between Marco’s eyes.
"Where is Vanessa?"
Luca asked softly.
"She... she went to the master bedroom."
Marco wept, clutching his mangled leg with bloody hands.
"She’s packing the emergency bug-out bag. Her father has a helicopter waiting at the Gary municipal airstrip."
Luca looked down at the terrified man as if he were nothing more than dirt on the sole of his shoe.
"Daniel."
Luca said without looking back.
"Break his other knee. Put him in the vault where my sister spent the last six months. If he dies before I finish with his mistress, I will hold you personally responsible."
"Yes, boss."
Daniel stepped forward, grabbing Marco by the collar of his leather jacket and dragging him into the dark like a carcass.
I sat on the cold floor, shaking so violently my teeth were clicking together.
Luca turned his dark eyes toward me.
He slowly lowered his weapon, tucking it into his waistband, and walked over to where I was huddled.
He knelt down in front of me, his large hands reaching out to steady my trembling shoulders.
"Sophie."
He said, his voice dropping from the murderous roar of a mob boss to something low, steady, and protective.
"Are you hit?"
"No, sir."
I sobbed, tears cutting hot trails through the dust and dried blood on my face.
"She... she has my brother's badge. She threatened to kill him tomorrow morning."
Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out his private encrypted satellite phone.
He pressed a single speed-dial button and held the phone to his ear.
"Marcus."
Luca spoke into the receiver, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Take four men from the inner circle. Go to St. Jude’s Pavilion, room 304. Secure Leo Bennett. Move him into the high-security private suite at Northwestern Memorial under my personal name. If anyone from the Bellini family steps within fifty yards of that floor, put two bullets in their chest and throw them in the river."
He paused, listening to the response.
"Do it now."
Luca ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Your brother is safe, Sophie."
He said softly, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath my eyes.
"Nobody touches what belongs to my house."
I let out a ragged breath, the crushing weight that had been suffocating me since four o'clock that afternoon finally lifting from my chest.
I reached into the small hidden pocket inside the waistband of my apron.
My trembling fingers pulled out the small, rectangular silver flash drive that Vanessa had been hunting for.
"She wanted this."
I whispered, holding the cold metal out toward him.
"I found it in your study two days ago. I was going to give it to Mrs. Carter, but... I think this is why she tried to kill me."
Luca looked at the silver drive resting in my bloody palm.
His expression shifted from cold anger into something far more dangerous.
"This isn't my drive, Sophie."
He said quietly, picking the drive up and examining the tiny Bellini family crest laser-engraved onto the casing.
"This is the ledger my father was murdered for."
Elena leaned against the brick archway behind him, her voice trembling but clear.
"She killed father, Luca."
Elena whispered from the shadows of the coat.
"She poisoned his dialysis port last winter. I found the transaction receipts in her father's safe in Miami. That’s why she locked me down here. That’s why she was marrying you. She wanted the Moretti empire to inherit her father’s debt, and once the wedding was official, you were supposed to die in a car accident just like me."
Luca stood up slowly, the muscles in his back coiling like steel springs.
The puzzle was complete.
Every lie.
Every bruised bone.
Every drop of dried blood on my uniform had been leading to this exact midnight hour.
Luca looked toward the service stairs leading up to the master bedroom.
"Sophie."
He said, not looking back.
"Stay beside Elena. When Hayes comes down, let him treat you both."
"Mr. Moretti,"
I called out, fear catching in my throat as I saw the death in his eyes.
"What are you going to do?"
May you like
Luca did not answer.
He pulled his weapon back from his belt, racked the slide with a clean, terrifying mechanical snap, and began his ascent up the dark wooden stairs.
