Chapter 10 - THE CLEANING OF THE BLOOD
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The single gunshot echoed across the rolling hills of Lake Forest, swallowed by the roar of the arriving federal helicopters.
Three black Sikorsky UH-60 helicopters touched down on the expansive front lawns of the estate, blowing clouds of dry leaves and rain mist across the driveway.
Dozens of FBI tactical agents in full assault gear swarmed the grounds, securing the surviving mercenaries and setting up perimeter tape.
Dominic lowered his weapon, letting the smoking barrel rest against his thigh.
He did not look at Salvatore Bellini’s lifeless body on the rain-soaked terrace.
He turned on his heel and rushed back into the shattered bedroom.
“Claire!” he cried out, his voice cracking with pure, agonizing terror.
I was sitting on the carpet, clutching Noah against my chest, rocking him back and forth as tears washed the blood from my cheek.
Noah was crying softly, his little arms wrapped around my neck, still clutching his brave wooden horse.
Dominic dropped to his knees in front of us, uncaring of the broken glass digging into his trousers.
His trembling, soot-stained hands reached out, gently pulling both of us into his massive, shaking arms.
He buried his face between my neck and Noah’s hair, holding us so tightly I could feel the violent pounding of his heart against my ribs.
“I have you,” Dominic sobbed openly, his tears hot against my bruised forehead.
“I have you both. You’re safe. Oh God, you’re safe.”
Noah sniffled, reaching out with his small hand to touch Dominic’s tear-soaked cheek.
“I hit the bad man with my horse, Daddy,” Noah whispered proudly through his hiccups.
“I protected Mommy.”
Dominic pulled back slightly, looking down into his son’s bruised, brave little face.
A laugh of pure, overwhelming pride broke through Dominic’s tears as he gently cupped Noah’s chin.
“You did, buddy,” Dominic choked out, kissing both of his son’s cheeks.
“You are the bravest boy in the world.”
“You saved your mom.”
Dominic turned his gaze to my forehead, his face pale with horror as he saw the cut near my hairline.
“Claire, look at me,” he pleaded, his thumbs gently wiping the blood from my temple.
“I’m okay, Dominic,” I whispered, leaning my face into his warm palm.
“The cut is shallow. I’m okay.”
Special Agent Miller stepped into the bedroom, his tactical rifle lowered, his face etched with grim satisfaction.
He looked at the shattered glass on the balcony, then down at the family gathered on the floor.
“The perimeter is secure, Moretti,” Miller said, holstering his weapon.
“Salvatore’s entire network in Michigan and Illinois has been dismantled.”
“Eighteen of his captains surrendered at the docks thirty minutes ago.”
Dominic slowly stood up, helping me to my feet and scooping Noah into his left arm.
He wrapped his right arm securely around my waist, supporting my weight completely.
“The evidence in the safe is yours, Miller,” Dominic said, his voice returning to its steady, commanding authority.
“The offshore accounts, the political bribe ledgers, and the shipping manifests.”
“Take it all.”
Agent Miller looked at the mafia boss with genuine respect, nodding slowly.
“The Department of Justice considers your cooperation extraordinary, Dominic.”
“All pending inquiries into Moretti Logistics are officially closed.”
“Your family is clean.”
Miller signaled to his team, turning to leave the master suite to oversee the cleanup.
Dominic looked down at me, his dark eyes brimming with a peace that seemed impossible after the violence of the morning.
“It’s over, Claire,” he whispered, his forehead resting gently against mine.
“The war is over.”
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“The monsters are gone.”
“And nobody will ever make you hide in the dark again.”
