Chapter 8 – The Betrayal

The damp, foul air in the tunnel suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

I pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle my gasp. Marcus gripped my shoulder tight, his eyes fixed on the horrific scene unfolding above us through the iron grate.

Jenna Moretti, the terrified, trembling girl from the train station, was holding a polished silver handgun. Her hand wasn’t shaking. Her eyes were completely cold.

“Jenna, please,” Michael begged, his voice raspy and broken. Blood dripped from his split lip onto his white shirt. “What are you doing? He’s going to kill us both!”

Dominic Bellini chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the empty warehouse. He placed a heavy hand affectionately on Jenna’s shoulder.

“She isn’t a hostage, Michael,” Dominic smiled cruelly. “She’s an investment.”

Michael stared at his daughter, the betrayal shattering what was left of his broken heart. “Jenna? You’re working for him?”

“I’m working for myself, Dad,” Jenna said, her voice devoid of any emotion. “You chose the bottle over me for ten years. Uncle Luca treated me like a child. Dominic is the only one who promised me a real seat at the table.”

“You told us you heard Vanessa in the study,” Michael cried, struggling against the zip-ties cutting into his wrists. “You gave us the money clip!”

“A calculated sacrifice,” Jenna sneered. “Dominic needed Vanessa out of the way anyway. She was becoming too emotional, too messy. I gave Luca the clip so he would break the engagement and go after Claudia. It was the perfect distraction to get you alone.”

I felt violently sick. Jenna hadn’t been running away to Montreal. She had been waiting at the train station to lure her father into a trap. The crushed daisies, the tears—it was all a brilliant, sociopathic performance.

“Sign the deeds, Michael,” Dominic ordered, dropping the thick manila folder onto a crate next to the chair. “Your father signed them over to me before he died, but since Luca contested the will, I need a direct signature from the eldest surviving heir to legitimize the transfer.”

“I won’t do it,” Michael spat, a fierce, desperate courage finally breaking through his grief. “I won’t give you the southside.”

Dominic sighed heavily. He looked at Jenna and nodded.

Jenna stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the gun hard against her father’s temple.

“Sign them, Dad,” Jenna said coldly. “Or I pull the trigger. And Dominic tells the police you killed yourself out of guilt for Grandpa’s murder.”

Down in the tunnel, Marcus drew his gun. “I have a shot at Dominic,” he whispered to me. “But if I miss, Jenna kills Michael.”

“Wait,” I breathed, my eyes darting around the warehouse. “Where is Luca?”

If Dominic had set a trap for Luca, why wasn’t he here?

Suddenly, the massive aluminum bay doors at the far end of the warehouse began to screech open.

Dominic and Jenna spun around, raising their weapons.

A sleek, black town car drove slowly into the warehouse, its headlights blindingly bright. It came to a smooth stop thirty feet away.

The driver’s door opened.

Luca Moretti stepped out. He wasn’t wearing his dark overcoat. He wore a simple black suit, his hands resting loosely at his sides. He looked entirely calm, almost bored.

“Luca,” Dominic smiled, though his grip tightened on the folder. “You’re late. Your brother and I were just finishing some paperwork.”

“You don’t need the paperwork, Dominic,” Luca said smoothly, walking slowly toward the center of the room. “The deeds are worthless.”

Dominic’s smile faltered. “What are you talking about?”

“My father didn’t sign the warehouse deeds over to you three years ago,” Luca explained, his voice echoing clearly. “He signed them over to a private trust. A trust completely controlled by the Catholic Church. They’ve been building an orphanage on that land for six months.”

Dominic’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. “You’re lying!”

“Call the Archdiocese,” Luca shrugged. “The paperwork you forced him to sign was a decoy document. He knew Claudia was coming. He played you from the grave.”

Dominic roared in fury. He pulled a heavy revolver from his coat and aimed it at Luca. “Kill him!” he screamed at his hidden snipers.

Nothing happened.

The warehouse remained completely silent.

Dominic looked up at the catwalks, confusion washing over his face. “I said fire!”

“They can’t hear you, Dominic,” Luca said, taking another calm step forward. “My tactical team breached the roof twenty minutes ago. Your snipers are currently zip-tied to the rafters.”

Dominic stepped back, panic finally setting in. He looked at Jenna. “Shoot his brother! Now!”

Jenna’s hands began to shake. The cold, sociopathic mask was slipping. She pressed the gun harder against Michael’s head, but she couldn’t pull the trigger.

“Jenna,” Luca said softly, stopping ten feet away. “Dominic doesn’t care about you. He used Vanessa. He used Claudia. He is using you right now as a human shield. If you pull that trigger, my men will cut you in half before the casing hits the floor.”

Jenna looked wildly from Luca to Dominic. “You promised me the north territory!” she screamed at Dominic.

“Shut up and shoot him!” Dominic bellowed.

“Do it, Jenna,” Michael suddenly said, his voice surprisingly calm.

Jenna looked down at her father, shocked.

“I failed you,” Michael said, tears falling freely down his bruised face. “I chose alcohol over you for ten years. If this is the price for my mistakes, I will pay it. Pull the trigger. Take the territory. Just don’t let this monster control you.”

Jenna’s breath hitched in a ragged sob. The gun wavered in her hand.

Down in the tunnel, Marcus aimed his weapon upward through the grate. “I have the shot on Dominic. Tell me when.”

But before I could speak, Jenna let out a guttural scream of absolute frustration.

She didn’t shoot her father.

She spun around, aiming the gun squarely at Dominic Bellini’s chest, and pulled the trigger.