Chapter 5 – The Empty Asthma Inhaler

“Get down!” Marcus roared, shoving Mara and me onto the dusty hardwood floor just as a hail of bullets shattered the cabin windows.

Glass exploded inward, showering the kitchen counters. Luca didn’t hesitate. He drew his own heavy handgun, kicked over a massive oak dining table, and pulled me behind it for cover.

“Dominic!” Luca shouted over the deafening gunfire, his voice echoing off the surrounding mountains. “Call off your dogs!”

The gunfire abruptly stopped. The silence that followed was thick and terrifying.

From outside, Dominic Bellini’s voice drifted through the shattered windows. It was smooth, arrogant, and dripping with venom.

“Well, well,” Dominic called out. “My little sister told me you were getting paranoid, Luca. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to drive out to the middle of nowhere without your army.”

“Where is my wife?” Luca yelled back, his dark eyes burning with absolute, lethal fury.

Dominic laughed. “Which one? The one you’re supposed to marry next week, or the one you discarded four years ago?”

“Where is Elena, Dominic?!”

“She’s dead, Luca.”

The words hit Luca like a physical blow. He froze, his grip on his gun faltering for a fraction of a second.

“You’re lying,” Mara sobbed from the floor, clutching my arm.

“I wish I was,” Dominic sneered. “She died of pneumonia two weeks ago. Turns out living in a drafty cabin in the mountains isn’t great for a delicate city girl. It’s a tragedy, really.”

Luca’s chest heaved. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a devastation so profound it broke my heart entirely. Elena was gone. The woman he had loved, the mother of his child, had died alone in the cold, believing he wanted her dead.

“And the boy?” Luca asked, his voice cracking.

“Oh, I have the brat,” Dominic replied casually. “Vanessa paid me handsomely to track them down. She wanted to tie up loose ends before the wedding. But frankly, the kid is a nuisance. He never stops coughing.”

My blood ran cold.

He never stops coughing.

I looked at the trash can where I had found the photograph. Beside the empty soup cans lay a small, crumpled pharmacy receipt. I hadn’t looked closely at it before.

I grabbed the receipt, smoothing it out with shaking hands.

“Luca,” I whispered frantically. “Look at this.”

I pointed to the itemized list on the receipt.

Albuterol Sulfate. Pediatric dosage.

“He has asthma,” I said, looking into Luca’s terrified eyes. “If he’s been coughing, and he’s trapped with Dominic in a cold car… he’s having an attack.”

Luca’s grief instantly transformed into blinding, terrifying rage.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t issue a threat. He simply looked at Marcus and nodded.

Marcus pulled a heavy flashbang grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin, and hurled it through the shattered window.

“Cover your eyes!” Marcus yelled.

A blinding white light and a deafening explosion rocked the cabin.

Luca surged upward, vaulting over the overturned table. He moved with the terrifying speed and precision that had made him the undisputed king of Chicago. He fired three shots in rapid succession. Two of Dominic’s men dropped to the dirt, screaming.

“Get to the car!” Luca roared at us.

Marcus provided cover fire, pushing Mara and me out the back door of the cabin. We scrambled through the freezing mud, keeping low until we reached our armored SUV.

Dominic, recovering from the flashbang, ducked behind the engine block of his own vehicle.

“You can’t win this, Luca!” Dominic screamed, raising an assault rifle. “Even if you kill me, you’ll never find the kid! He’s locked in a warehouse in Chicago, and he’s out of medication!”

Luca didn’t flinch. He walked slowly down the porch steps, perfectly calm despite the bullets impacting the wood around him.

He raised his handgun and fired a single, perfect shot.

The bullet struck Dominic’s right kneecap.

Dominic screamed, dropping his rifle and collapsing into the mud. His remaining men hesitated, realizing their boss was down and Luca Moretti was advancing like the grim reaper.

“Drop the weapons,” Luca commanded the remaining men. “Or die.”

The men threw their guns into the mud and raised their hands.

Luca walked over to Dominic, who was writhing in agony, clutching his shattered knee.

Luca pressed the hot barrel of his gun directly against Dominic’s forehead.

“Where is the warehouse?” Luca whispered.

“Go to hell,” Dominic spat, blood staining his teeth.

Luca pulled the hammer back. The metallic click was loud in the cold mountain air.

“You have five seconds,” Luca said. “Five. Four. Three…”

“Okay! Okay!” Dominic shrieked, weeping from the pain. “It’s the old Bellini shipping warehouse! Pier 42! In the basement office!”

Luca stepped back. He looked at Marcus. “Tie him up and throw him in the trunk. We’re taking him back to Chicago.”

We piled into the SUV. Marcus threw it in reverse, tearing down the mountain road at a terrifying speed.

I sat in the back, my heart hammering against my ribs.

We had the location. But Chicago was a twelve-hour drive.

I looked at the crumpled pharmacy receipt in my hand.

“Luca,” I said softly, hating myself for adding to his panic. “If he’s having a severe asthma attack, twelve hours is too long.”

Luca gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

“He’s my son,” Luca whispered, tears finally falling down his hardened face. “He has to hold on. He has to.”

As I reached into my coat pocket to grab a tissue for Mara, my fingers brushed against something hard.

I pulled it out.

It was the empty plastic casing of an Albuterol inhaler. I must have scooped it up when I grabbed the receipt from the trash.

But there was something wrapped tightly around the plastic mouthpiece.

A small, delicate silver bracelet.

TITLE: The Silver Bracelet

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