Chapter 12 - The Desperate Strike
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The sun dipped below the Chicago skyline, casting long, bloody shadows across the city.
The armored convoy returned Oliver and me to the Moretti estate under heavy guard.
The mansion's perimeter was reinforced with dozens of extra security personnel patrolling the iron fence line with guard dogs.
Inside the great library, Oliver sat on the floor, happily playing with a set of wooden toy trains Mrs. Gable had bought for him.
I stood by the tall bay windows, watching the gathering storm clouds roll in from the lake.
"You should eat something, Claire," Luca said, walking into the room carrying a porcelain tray with tea and fresh pastries.
"I can't eat, Luca," I confessed, wrapping my arms around myself. "I keep feeling like this is a dream that's going to end in a nightmare."
"For three years, I worried about paying next month's rent or having enough milk for Oliver."
"Now I'm in a castle, surrounded by guns and millions of dollars, being told my husband is alive in Italy."
Luca set the tray on the table and walked over to stand beside me.
"It's not a dream, Claire," he said gently.
"My private jet is currently being fueled at O'Hare International Airport."
"As soon as we tie up the loose ends with Bellini's surrender tomorrow morning, I am personally flying you and Oliver to Portofino."
Tears of relief rushed to my eyes.
"You really mean that?" I asked.
"Matteo gave up everything to protect you," Luca said with a soft smile. "The least I can do is bring his family back into his arms."
Suddenly, the mansion's power cut out completely.
The library plunged into pitch darkness.
Downstairs, a violent explosion rocked the foundation of the house, rattling the heavy glass panes in the bay window.
Oliver screamed in terror, dropping his toy train.
I lunged across the dark room, scooping my son into my arms and dropping behind the heavy mahogany desk.
Automatic gunfire erupted from the front gardens, followed by the terrifying sound of breaking glass in the foyer.
Luca drew a matte-black pistol from beneath his jacket in a single fluid motion.
"Stay down!" Luca commanded, his voice sharp and steady despite the chaos.
The library door burst open, and Marco appeared, illuminated by the muzzle flashes echoing up the grand staircase.
"Boss!" Marco shouted over the gunfire. "It's Salvatore Bellini!"
"The bastard gathered thirty loyal mercenaries from his old street crews!"
"They drove a truck through the south gates and breached the lower level!"
"He knows he's finished, and he's trying to take everyone down with him!"
Luca's eyes burned with cold, lethal fury.
"Marco, take Claire and Oliver into the panic room behind the wine vault," Luca ordered.
"No, Luca!" I cried out, gripping his arm in the shadows. "Don't go down there alone!"
Luca looked down at Oliver, who was trembling against my chest.
He gently tapped Oliver's cheek.
"Keep your mommy safe, buddy," Luca whispered to the boy.
Then he looked into my eyes with an intensity that took my breath away.
"Nobody touches my brother's family while I have breath in my lungs."
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"Marco, move them now!"
Luca turned and charged straight toward the gunfire, descending into the smoke-filled hell of the grand foyer.
