Chapter 6 - THE CROSSROADS AT GREEN BAY

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The armored Suburban skidded across the rain-slicked asphalt, its anti-lock brakes groaning against the heavy chassis.
Daniel spun the steering wheel with violent expertise, sending the heavy vehicle into a controlled slide onto the gravel shoulder.
Bullets slammed against the reinforced doors with deafening, metallic thuds that sounded like sledgehammers hitting iron.
“Stay down!” Luca roared, turning in his seat and shoving both Mara and me flat onto the floorboards.
His massive body completely shielded us from the side windows as glass spiderwebbed under the barrage of rifle fire.
The lead Suburban in our convoy had already rammed through the ditch, its rear doors flying open as four Moretti enforcers returned fire.
The darkness of the Wisconsin woods erupted into streaks of orange muzzle flash and the deafening roar of automatic weapons.
“Salvatore’s south-side crew,” Daniel yelled over the gunfire, pulling a submachine gun from beneath the center console.
“They set up a checkpoint at the county line to slow us down!”
Luca didn't flinch.
His eyes were cold, calculating, and terrifyingly clear.
He reached down, pulling a heavy tactical carbine from the lockbox beneath the passenger seat.
“Daniel, keep the engine running,” Luca commanded.
“The moment the right lane is clear, you punch through.”
“Luca, no!” Mara cried from the floor, clutching his trousers.
“Don't go out there!”
Luca leaned down, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes locking onto my frightened gaze.
He reached out, his thumb quickly tracing my lower lip, steadying my trembling breath with his touch.
“Keep my sister down, Claire,” he whispered, his voice as calm as a summer morning.
“I will be back in two minutes.”
He kicked the heavy passenger door open into the storm.
Luca stepped out onto the highway into the middle of the firefight as if he were simply stepping out for a stroll.
He raised the carbine with lethal, practiced precision.
Three controlled bursts echoed through the trees.
The two gunmen firing from behind the logging truck’s cab collapsed instantly into the mud.
Luca advanced through the rain, his black overcoat billowing in the freezing wind like the wings of a predatory raven.
Return fire chewed into the dirt at his boots, but he didn't even break stride.
He fired again, disabling the engine block of the chase car blocking the right shoulder.
From the woods, a man leaped out with a shotgun raised toward Luca’s blind spot.
I didn't think; I didn't hesitate.
I grabbed Daniel’s spare heavy flashlight from the door pocket, shoved my door open, and screamed:
“Luca! Nine o'clock!”
Luca spun on his heel with blinding speed, dropping to one knee as the shotgun blast shredded the air where his head had been a second earlier.
Luca’s return round struck the attacker squarely in the chest, ending the threat instantly.
Luca was on his feet in a second, bounding back to our vehicle and grabbing my arm with an iron grip.
He pulled me back inside, slamming the heavy door shut behind him.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Luca breathed, his face inches from mine, his chest heaving with adrenaline.
“You could have taken a bullet, Claire!”
“He was going to kill you!” I shouted back, my hands trembling as I held his soaked lapels.
“I wasn't going to let you die on this road!”
Luca stared at me, the rain dripping from his eyelashes, his dark eyes wide with an emotion so raw and fierce it silenced the storm outside.
He reached up, his large, wet hands cupping both sides of my face, his forehead resting hard against mine.
“Nobody has ever watched my back like that,” he whispered, his voice trembling for the first time in my presence.
“Nobody, Claire.”
Daniel rammed the transmission into gear, flooring the accelerator.
The Suburban roared forward, bouncing violently over the ditch and rocketing past the burning wreckage of the roadblock.
Behind us, the flashing red lights of Wisconsin state troopers were appearing on the southern horizon.
“Two hours to Sister Bay, boss,” Daniel announced, wiping sweat from his eyes.
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Luca didn't look at the road.
He kept his arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders, pulling me against his broad, damp chest, holding me as if I were the only precious thing left in this dark and violent world.