Chapter 5 – THE TRAITOR IN THE RANKS

The metallic click of Marco’s shotgun echoed through the empty terminal like a thunderclap.

Luca froze. His hand, which had been slowly reaching for the pistol inside his jacket, stopped moving.

“Marco,” Luca said, his voice dangerously low. “Think about what you’re doing.”

“I am thinking, Boss.” Marco’s eyes were cold, devoid of the loyalty he’d shown for ten years. “I’m thinking about the three million dollars Vanessa’s father paid me to make sure you never walk out of this train station.”

Vanessa’s father.

My mind raced. Vanessa hadn’t just been a jealous fiancée trying to ruin a wedding. Her family had been planning a coup.

“The judge hired you?” Luca asked, stalling for time.

“The judge is bankrupt,” Marco sneered. “He owes a lot of bad people a lot of money. Marrying Vanessa to you was supposed to fix that. But you blew that up tonight. So, they went with Plan B. Let Richard kill you, blame the mob, and take the estate.”

Richard chuckled, keeping his pistol aimed at Luca’s chest. “A beautiful partnership. Now, kick the gun over, Moretti. Slowly.”

Luca slowly reached into his jacket. Using only his thumb and forefinger, he pulled his matte black pistol and dropped it onto the marble floor. He kicked it toward Marco.

Madison was sobbing behind Luca, clutching her mother’s journal to her chest.

“Dad, please,” she whimpered.

“I got you, baby. Don’t look,” Luca whispered back.

David, to his credit, finally realized the magnitude of his mistake. The young doctor stepped up beside Luca, placing himself between the guns and Madison.

“You can take the journal,” David said, his voice shaking. “Just let her go.”

Richard laughed. “You think this is about a book, doc? The journal is just leverage to keep the cops off my back. Maddie is my retirement fund.”

He looked at his daughter. “You’re coming with me, Maddie. Luca’s empire transfers to his next of kin if he dies. Once he’s dead, you inherit everything. And as your loving father, I’m going to help you manage it.”

It was completely sick.

He didn’t just want Luca dead; he wanted to enslave his own daughter to steal Luca’s wealth.

“Over my dead body,” Luca growled.

“That’s exactly the plan,” Marco said.

Marco raised the shotgun, aiming for Luca’s center mass.

“Claire, get down!” Luca roared.

Before Marco could pull the trigger, the massive overhead fire sprinkler system violently erupted.

A deafening alarm blared through the station as thousands of gallons of icy water blasted down from the ceiling.

The sudden deluge blinded Marco. He fired blindly.

The shotgun blast shattered the row of metal lockers just inches from my head. Shrapnel rained down on us.

Luca didn’t waste a millisecond.

He lunged forward through the curtain of water, tackling Richard to the wet marble floor. The two men wrestled for the suppressed pistol, sliding across the slick surface.

“David, run!” I screamed, grabbing Madison’s arm and dragging her toward the nearest exit stairwell.

David didn’t run.

Instead, he grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher off the wall bracket. As Marco racked the shotgun to fire again, David swung the red metal cylinder with everything he had, smashing it into the side of Marco’s knee.

Marco screamed, his leg snapping backward. He collapsed, dropping the shotgun.

Through the pouring water, I saw Luca pin Richard to the ground. Luca ripped the pistol from Richard’s grip and pressed the barrel directly under the man’s chin.

“Give me one reason,” Luca roared over the alarm.

Richard spit blood, grinning through his broken teeth.

“Because if you kill me,” Richard choked out, “you’ll never find out who’s waiting for Madison at the church on Saturday.”

Luca froze.

He pressed the gun harder. “What are you talking about?”

“You think Vanessa’s family is acting alone?” Richard laughed. “They’re backed by the Rossi family. The New York bosses want Chicago, Luca. They’re using this wedding to wipe you out. They’ve already planted a bomb under the altar.”

The blood drained from Luca’s face.

If Richard was telling the truth, the wedding wasn’t just ruined. It was a mass assassination plot.

Suddenly, heavy boots echoed down the corridor.

Dozens of them.

Chicago PD tactical units poured into the terminal from both ends, assault rifles raised.

“Chicago Police! Drop the weapons!” a SWAT commander shouted through a bullhorn.

Luca slowly stood up, dropping the gun. He raised his hands, the water slicking his hair down his face.

The police swarmed them. They cuffed Richard. They cuffed Marco.

And then, two officers grabbed Luca, slamming him against the wall and slapping handcuffs on his wrists.

“No!” Madison screamed, running forward. “He didn’t do anything! He saved us!”

The commander stepped forward, looking at Luca with a grim expression.

“Luca Moretti, you’re under arrest for the murder of Julia Moretti.”

Madison gasped. “What? No! Richard did it! We have the journal!” She held up the wet leather book.

The commander looked at her with pity.

“Ma’am, we received an anonymous tip ten minutes ago with an audio recording of your father confessing to cutting her brake lines.”

Luca locked eyes with me through the downpour.

He wasn’t panicked. He looked completely calm.

And then I saw it.

He mouthed two words to me as they dragged him away.

“The coat.”