Chapter 10 - The Dawn of Romano
Arthur Romano did not hesitate.
He turned to the head nurse standing beside the bed.
“Hold her other hand, do not leave her side for a single second.”
He bent down, kissed Chloe’s sweat-soaked temple with burning intensity.
“I will be back before our son cries, my love.”
Chloe nodded through her gasping tears, squeezing his fingers one last time before letting go.
“Go protect our home,” she whispered hoarsely.
Arthur stepped away from the bed.
From beneath the bedside medical trolley, he retrieved a concealed submachine gun he had stashed weeks ago in preparation for every worst-case scenario.
He racked the slide with a crisp, lethal metallic click.
He kicked open the heavy oak doors of the delivery suite, stepping out into the red-lit hallway just as four masked gunmen reached the top of the marble staircase.
Arthur didn't seek cover.
He advanced down the corridor like a juggernaut of pure vengeance.
He fired in controlled, devastating three-round bursts.
The first two infiltrators collapsed backward down the stairs, their weapons clattering down the marble steps.
The third gunman dove behind a marble statue, firing wildly down the hallway, chipping plaster around Arthur’s shoulders.
Arthur did not even slow his stride.
He rounded the pillar, fired twice through the statue’s pedestal, and sent the killer crashing through the mahogany banister to the foyer thirty feet below.
The fourth gunman, realizing the terrifying nature of the man they had ambushed, dropped his rifle and threw his hands up in sheer panic.
Arthur stepped forward, seized the man by the throat with his bare left hand, and slammed him against the wall.
“Who sent you?” Arthur whispered, his voice vibrating with demonic calm.
“Vivien’s uncle... from the Detroit family...” the man choked out, his face turning purple under Arthur’s iron grip.
“He... he paid two million...”
Arthur snapped the man's neck with a single, sharp twist of his wrist.
The body slumped lifelessly to the floor.
Below in the foyer, Leo Barnes and a dozen Romano soldiers swept through the shattered front entrance, eliminating the remaining getaway drivers and securing the perimeter within forty-five seconds.
Leo looked up the grand staircase, seeing Arthur standing among the spent brass casings in the red emergency light.
“Perimeter neutralized, Boss!” Leo shouted, his breath heavy.
“No more breaches, the estate is locked down tight!”
Arthur didn't reply.
He dropped his weapon onto the stairs, turned on his heel, and sprinted back down the hallway toward the delivery room.
As he crossed the threshold, the most beautiful, miraculous sound in the universe echoed through the quiet chamber.
A sharp, clear, triumphant infant cry cut through the darkness.
Arthur froze in the doorway, his chest heaving, his hands trembling as he stared at the center of the room.
The primary power grid suddenly surged back to life, flooding the suite with brilliant, warm white light.
Dr. Julian was smiling through his surgical mask, gently wrapping a squirming, healthy newborn boy in a soft white flannel blanket.
Chloe was lying back against the pillows, completely exhausted, her pale face illuminated by an expression of pure, divine peace.
Tears of joy were streaming down her flushed cheeks.
Arthur walked forward like a man entering a sacred temple.
He fell to his knees beside the bed, burying his face into Chloe’s neck, his broad shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Julian gently lowered the bundled infant into Chloe’s arms, placing the newborn against her chest.
The baby stopped crying immediately, snuggling into his mother’s warmth, his tiny fingers curling around Chloe’s thumb.
Chloe looked down at her son, and then reached out to stroke Arthur’s dark, messy hair.
“Look at him, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice overflowing with love.
“Look at your son.”
Arthur lifted his head slowly, his eyes red and brimming with tears.
He looked down at the tiny, perfect face of the boy who had survived a blizzard, an altar standoff, and an underworld war.
Arthur reached out a massive, scarred finger, touching the infant’s impossibly soft cheek with infinite gentleness.
The baby’s tiny hand opened and clamped tightly around Arthur’s index finger.
Arthur let out a shuddering breath, a broken, beautiful laugh escaping his lips.
“He has your grip, Chloe,” Arthur said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“He’s a fighter.”
Chloe smiled, leaning her forehead against Arthur’s.
“What is his name, Don Romano?”
Arthur kissed the tiny forehead of his son, and then leaned up to press a lingering, devoted kiss against his wife’s lips.
“Alexander,” Arthur proclaimed proudly.
May you like
“Alexander Toby Romano.”
“The boy who brought his father back from the dead.”
