Chapter 2 – The Gun In The Cake Box

The silence in the tiny apartment was suffocating.

“They think you’re Vanessa.”

I stared at the heavy silver coin in my hand. The two-headed eagle seemed to mock me.

“A death mark?” I whispered, panic rising in my throat. “Because they think I’m the woman whose father owes them money?”

“Yes,” Luca said grimly.

He moved quickly, pulling the thin curtains closed over the living room window. He didn’t look like the kind man who had just brought my daughter a birthday cake anymore. He looked like the ruthless leader of a mafia syndicate preparing for war.

“Lily, sweetheart,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need you to go into your bedroom and get under the bed. Right now.”

Lily looked at me, her hazel eyes wide with fear. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

“Just do it, baby,” I pleaded, tears burning my eyes. “Take Mr. Rabbit and go under the bed. Do not come out until I tell you.”

Lily grabbed her stuffed animal and ran into her room, shutting the door behind her.

Luca pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing rapidly.

“Marco,” Luca barked. “I need a tactical team at Claire’s apartment building. Ten minutes ago. The Volkovs tracked the SUV. They think Claire is Vanessa.”

He paused, listening to the voice on the other end.

“I don’t care if you have to break every traffic law in Chicago,” Luca snarled. “Get here now.”

He hung up and turned to me.

“We have to leave,” Luca said, grabbing my arm. “If they left the coin, it means the hit squad is already in the building. They’re just waiting for my SUV to pull away so they can catch you alone.”

I grabbed my purse, my hands shaking violently.

“Where do we go?” I asked.

“The fire escape,” Luca said, moving toward the kitchen window.

But before he could unlock the latch, a heavy, metallic thud echoed from the hallway outside my front door.

Someone was out there.

Luca froze. He reached into his suit jacket, but his hand came up empty.

“Damn it,” he whispered.

“What?” I panicked.

“I left my weapon in the safe at the mansion,” Luca said, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t bring it because I thought I was delivering a cake to a seven-year-old girl.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. We were trapped in a third-floor apartment with a Russian hit squad outside the door, and the most powerful man in Chicago was unarmed.

The handle of the front door slowly began to turn.

I backed away, instinctively moving to block the hallway leading to Lily’s bedroom.

Luca looked around the cramped kitchen, his eyes scanning for anything he could use as a weapon. He grabbed a heavy kitchen knife from the block on the counter.

“Get behind me, Claire,” Luca ordered softly.

The deadbolt on the front door clicked.

Someone had picked the lock.

The door creaked open.

Three men stepped into the small living room. They wore dark leather jackets and gloves. The man in the front had a black snake eating its own tail tattooed across the back of his right hand.

They held silenced pistols equipped with laser sights.

The red dots swept across the room and landed squarely on Luca’s chest.

The leader with the tattoo smirked, his thick Russian accent breaking the silence.

“Well, this is a surprise,” the man said. “We came to collect the Bellini girl, and we find Don Moretti himself. Victor Volkov will be very pleased with this bonus.”

Luca didn’t flinch. He stood perfectly still, holding the kitchen knife, his body completely shielding mine.

“You’re making a mistake, Nikolai,” Luca said calmly, recognizing the assassin. “The woman you’re looking for is gone. I broke the engagement an hour ago. The Bellini family has been banished.”

Nikolai laughed, a cold, grating sound.

“You think Victor cares about a broken engagement?” Nikolai sneered. “Vanessa Bellini’s father owes us three million dollars. But if we kill you tonight, Moretti, the Syndicate falls into chaos. We’ll take all your territory. That’s worth a lot more than three million.”

He raised his pistol, aiming directly at Luca’s head.

“Say goodbye to your new girlfriend, Don Moretti.”

“Wait!” I screamed, stepping out from behind Luca.

Nikolai paused, looking at me in amusement.

“Take the money!” I yelled, desperately grabbing my purse from the table.

I unzipped it and pulled out the thick envelope Luca had given me at the mansion—my holiday bonus and back pay.

“There’s cash in here!” I pleaded, holding it out. “Just take it and leave him alone! Please!”

Nikolai laughed harder. “You think a few thousand dollars buys a mafia boss’s life, little mouse?”

He pointed his gun back at Luca.

But as Nikolai moved, his elbow bumped the massive, three-tiered birthday cake sitting on the table.

The heavy cardboard box shifted, knocking the cake slightly askew.

And something metallic clattered against the table.

Everyone froze.

Sticking out from the bottom tier of the chocolate cake was the sleek, black handle of a Glock 19 handgun.

My eyes widened in shock.

Marco.

The dining manager hadn’t just packed a cake for me. He knew Luca was leaving the estate unarmed, and he had hidden a weapon in the box just in case.

Nikolai realized what it was a split second too late.

Before the Russian could pull his trigger, Luca moved with terrifying speed.

He didn’t lunge for the men. He grabbed the handle of the gun sticking out of the cake.

He pulled it free, frosting flying across the kitchen, and fired three times in rapid succession.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The silenced pistols of the assassins were useless against the deafening roar of Luca’s weapon.

Nikolai dropped to the floor, clutching his shoulder. The second man fell backward into the hallway. The third man managed to fire a wild shot that shattered the kitchen window before Luca put a bullet through his knee.

In less than three seconds, the hit squad was neutralized.

The ringing in my ears was overwhelming. The smell of gunpowder and chocolate filled the tiny apartment.

Luca stood over Nikolai, the gun aimed squarely at the Russian’s head.

“Tell Victor,” Luca said, his voice a low, lethal growl, “that if he ever sends men near this woman or her child again, I will burn his entire operation to the ground.”

He kicked Nikolai’s silenced pistol away.

“Get out,” Luca commanded.

Nikolai groaned, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He and the remaining conscious assassin dragged themselves and their unconscious partner out of the apartment, stumbling down the hallway.

Luca slammed the door shut and locked it.

He turned to me, his chest heaving, his face pale.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, dropping the gun onto the table.

I shook my head, unable to speak, tears streaming down my face.

I ran past him, down the hall to Lily’s bedroom. I threw the door open.

Lily was huddled under the bed, clutching her stuffed rabbit, sobbing quietly.

“Mommy’s here, baby,” I cried, pulling her out and holding her tight. “It’s okay. The bad men are gone.”

When I carried Lily back into the living room, Luca was on his phone.

“Marco,” Luca said grimly. “I owe you my life.”

He listened for a moment.

“Yes, we’re safe,” Luca continued. “Get a cleaning crew here immediately. And pack Claire’s things. She and the girl are moving into the estate tonight. It’s not safe for them here anymore.”

I stared at him. “Move into the estate?”

Luca hung up the phone. He looked at me, the adrenaline fading, leaving a profound sense of guilt in his eyes.

“I put you in danger, Claire,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t brought the cake myself, the Volkovs would never have targeted you. I’m responsible for your safety now.”

He walked over to the table and picked up the thick envelope of cash I had dropped during the shootout.

He handed it back to me.

“But there’s something you need to tell me,” Luca said, his tone shifting.

I frowned, taking the envelope. “Tell you what?”

Luca pointed to the floor near the front door.

When my purse had spilled open, the contents had scattered across the cheap linoleum.

Lying next to my keys and a tube of lipstick was a small, faded photograph.

It was a picture of me, standing in front of a Christmas tree, holding a baby.

But I wasn’t alone in the photo.

Standing next to me, with his arm wrapped around my waist, was a man.

Luca stared at the photograph, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter.

“Claire,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.

He looked up at me.

“Why do you have a picture of my brother?”