Chapter 11 - The Courage of a Mother
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As Claire and I burst onto the upper mezzanine balcony, the sight below made my eighty-two-year-old heart nearly stop beating.
My precious boy Luca was pinned beneath that monster Salvatore Falcone, fighting with all his remaining strength to hold back the knife.
The blade of the combat dagger was only an inch from Luca’s throat, shaking under the tremendous pressure of Falcone’s weight.
"Salvatore!" I screamed from the top of the stairs, my voice ringing out with all the power left in my frail body.
Falcone froze, his eyes widening in pure shock as he looked up to see me standing on my own two feet.
"Rosa?" Falcone gasped, momentarily stunned that the broken old woman he thought was cowering was staring down at him.
In that split second of distraction, Claire acted with the ferocity of a protective lioness.
She hoisted the heavy brass ornamental vase from the mezzanine pedestal and hurled it over the railing with all her might.
The heavy brass vase whistled through the air and struck Falcone directly across his right shoulder with a sickening thud.
The impact broke his grip, sending the combat knife clattering across the slick marble floor.
"Mama, get back!" Luca roared from beneath him, finding a second wind fueled by pure adrenaline and terror for my safety.
Luca drove his knee upward into Falcone’s groin, flipping the older man off him with explosive force.
Falcone tumbled across the wet floor, his hand desperately scrambling for the fallen dagger.
Luca scrambled to his feet, lunged across the distance, and stomped his heavy leather boot directly onto Falcone’s outstretched hand.
The sound of finger bones snapping echoed sharply through the quiet foyer, accompanied by Falcone’s agonizing shriek.
Luca kicked the dagger far out of reach, then grabbed Falcone by the lapels of his ruined coat, hauling him upright.
He slammed the aging mobster against the grand marble pillar with enough force to crack the polished stone behind his skull.
Falcone hung limp in Luca’s iron grip, coughing up blood, his silver hair soaked with sweat and rain.
"Look at me, Salvatore," Luca growled, his face covered in blood, his dark eyes burning like the depths of purgatory.
Falcone looked up, his smug arrogance completely shattered, replaced by the pathetic, primal fear of a dying coward.
On the floor across the room, Vanessa watched in absolute silence, trembling uncontrollably as she realized her doom was sealed.
I slowly made my way down the grand staircase, supported by Claire's steady hands, until I stood just a few feet away from them.
Falcone turned his terrified eyes toward me, begging with his gaze for the mercy he had never once shown my husband.
"Rosa... please," Falcone wheezed through bloody lips.
"We were friends once... tell your boy to show mercy..."
I looked at the man who had stolen my youth, murdered my beloved Carmine, and tried to destroy my only child.
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"You made me scrub floors in my own home, Salvatore," I said softly, holding my chin high.
"And you forgot that in Chicago, a mother's vengeance is more ruthless than any gun."
