Chapter 6 – THE BELLINI CREST

I stared at the pearl-handled gun resting in the shadows beneath the sofa.

Bellini.

Vanessa’s family name.

Vincent had said Vanessa was dead, taken care of by Marco. But why was Vincent carrying a weapon customized with the crest of the woman he claimed to despise?

Answer One: Vanessa and Vincent weren’t just co-conspirators. They were tied much closer than Vincent had admitted.

Open Two: If Vincent had the Bellini family gun, did that mean the entire Bellini crime family was involved in the coup? And was Vanessa actually dead?

“Emma?”

I jumped. Luca was standing over me, offering his hand.

I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. He looked exhausted, his lip swollen and bleeding, but the cold fury in his eyes had been replaced by genuine concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, sir,” I said quickly. I pointed a trembling finger toward the sofa. “Mr. Moretti. The gun.”

Luca frowned. He walked over, knelt down, and retrieved the weapon. When he saw the pearl inlay and the engraving, his jaw tightened.

Caroline, who was sitting on the sofa holding Lily, went pale. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Luca said quietly, ejecting the magazine. “This is a presentation piece. Given only to the heads of the Bellini family.”

“Why did Vincent have it?” Caroline asked, her voice shaking.

“Because,” Luca said, his voice grim, “Vanessa’s father didn’t just want me out of the way to elevate his daughter. He wanted my territory. Vincent sold us out to the Bellinis to get the throne.”

Luca turned to Rossi, who was standing in the doorway.

“Rossi. Where is Vanessa Bellini? Vincent said Marco took care of her.”

Rossi tapped his earpiece, speaking in low, rapid Italian. After a moment, he looked up, his expression grim.

“Boss. Marco’s men confessed. They didn’t kill her. They staged it. Vanessa slipped the perimeter twenty minutes ago. She’s in the wind.”

Luca swore violently, slamming his fist onto the desk. “She knows we have Caroline. She knows the coup failed. She’ll go straight to her father.”

“If the Bellinis know Vincent failed, they’ll strike tonight,” Caroline said, pulling Lily tighter against her. “Luca, this house isn’t safe. They have an army on the South Side.”

“I know,” Luca said. He looked at Lily, whose eyes were wide with renewed terror.

He walked over and knelt in front of her. “Baby, I need you to be brave for me a little longer. Can you do that?”

Lily nodded, though her chin trembled. “Are the bad men coming back, Daddy?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Luca promised, kissing her forehead.

He stood up and looked at me.

“Emma. Rossi is going to take you, Caroline, and Lily to the safehouse. Your mother is already there. You will stay under lockdown until I end this.”

I swallowed hard. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to pay Vanessa’s father a visit,” Luca said, his voice devoid of all emotion. “And I’m going to finish the war they started.”

Ten minutes later, we were in a heavily armored transport van.

The windows were completely blacked out. Rossi drove, and two heavily armed guards sat in the back with us.

Caroline held Lily, rocking her gently. I sat across from them, my mind racing.

“Emma,” Caroline whispered, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Mrs. Moretti?”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “You risked everything for a family that isn’t even yours. You saved my daughter tonight.”

“I just did what was right,” I said quietly.

“You did more than that,” Caroline said. She reached into the pocket of her nightgown and pulled out the gold charm bracelet—the one Lily had found with blood on it.

She held it out to me.

“I want you to have this,” Caroline said.

I shook my head immediately. “No, I couldn’t. That’s your lucky charm.”

“It didn’t bring me much luck recently,” Caroline smiled sadly. “But maybe it will protect you. Please.”

I hesitated, then gently took the bracelet, slipping it into my apron pocket.

The van slowed down, taking several sharp turns before coming to a complete stop.

“We’re here,” Rossi announced, turning off the engine. “Stay low and move fast.”

He opened the back doors. We stepped out into an underground parking garage. The air was cold and damp.

Rossi led us to a heavy steel door, punched a code into a keypad, and pushed it open.

We entered a massive, windowless luxury apartment. It was a bunker designed for exactly this situation.

“Emma!”

I looked up. Sitting in a wheelchair by the kitchen island was my mother.

“Mom!” I sobbed, running across the room and throwing my arms around her.

“Oh, my brave girl,” she cried, stroking my hair. “These men brought me here. They said you were in trouble.”

“We’re safe now,” I promised, kissing her cheek.

Rossi locked the heavy steel door behind us. “There’s food in the pantry. Beds in the back. Do not attempt to leave. I have men stationed outside every exit.”

He turned and walked back out, locking us inside.

The adrenaline slowly began to leave my body, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

Caroline took Lily to one of the bedrooms to finally get some sleep. I made my mother some tea and settled her onto the sofa.

The apartment was utterly silent, save for the hum of the ventilation system.

An hour passed.

I was sitting at the kitchen island, staring blankly at the wall, when I noticed something odd.

On the marble counter, next to the coffee maker, was a small, black object.

I walked over and picked it up.

It was a black rosary.

The beads were made of polished obsidian, and the cross was silver, but inverted.

My blood ran cold.

I had grown up in Chicago. I knew the rumors about the syndicate families.

An inverted black rosary wasn’t a religious item.

It was a calling card.

It was left by the Bellini family’s elite hitmen to signal that a target had been marked for death.

Answer One: The safehouse wasn’t safe. The Bellinis already knew about it.

Open Two: How did they get the calling card inside a locked bunker?

I backed away from the counter, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I looked toward the heavy steel door. It was still locked.

Then, I heard a sound that made me stop breathing.

It was the faint, unmistakable click of a gun’s safety being switched off.

It came from the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

I turned slowly.

Standing in the shadows of the hallway, holding a silenced pistol, was the woman I had seen earlier that evening at the engagement dinner.

Margaret Ellis. The charity coordinator.

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