Chapter 10 – THE SILVER CANE

The silence of the house was shattered by the sound of breaking glass downstairs.

“Get Sophie,” Luca ordered, his voice cold and commanding. He chambered a round in his pistol. “Take her to the panic room behind the library. Do not come out until I say so.”

“I’m not leaving you!” I grabbed his arm.

“Emily, go! They are not here to negotiate!”

I turned and sprinted down the dark hallway to Sophie’s room. She was sitting up in bed, clutching her stuffed rabbit, terrified by the sudden darkness.

“Emily?” she whimpered.

“Come with me, sweetie. Right now.” I scooped her up, not caring about the weight, and ran toward the back stairs.

Gunfire erupted in the foyer below. The heavy, booming sound of shotguns mixed with the rapid crack of automatic rifles.

I carried Sophie down the servant’s stairs, my bare feet slipping on the wood. We burst into the library just as the front doors were blown off their hinges.

I pushed the secret panel behind the bookshelf, shoved Sophie inside the steel-reinforced panic room, and hit the lock button.

“Stay quiet,” I whispered through the steel grate.

“Where’s Daddy?” she cried.

Before I could answer, a rough hand grabbed the back of my hair and threw me violently across the library floor.

I crashed into an oak desk, gasping for air.

Standing over me was a massive man with a scarred face.

Behind him, walking slowly into the library, was Salvatore Moretti.

He was older than the pictures, his face lined with cruelty. He leaned heavily on his silver cane, his dark eyes surveying the room before locking onto me.

“So,” Salvatore wheezed, his voice like grinding stones. “This is the maid who ruined everything.”

I tried to sit up, but the scarred man kicked me hard in the ribs. I coughed, tasting blood.

“Where is my son?” Salvatore demanded.

“Go to hell,” I spat.

Salvatore smiled thinly. “I’m already there, my dear. I built it.”

He raised his cane and pointed it at the bookshelf. “Blow the vault. I want my granddaughter.”

The scarred man pulled a brick of C4 explosive from his tactical vest.

“No!” I screamed, lunging forward, but the man backhanded me, sending me sprawling across the rug.

“You are a disappointment, Emily,” Salvatore sighed. “Your mother was much more cooperative right before she stopped breathing.”

Tears of rage burned my eyes. “You killed her.”

“She was a loose end. Just like Elena. Women in this family talk too much.”

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out in the doorway.

The scarred man dropped the C4 and collapsed, a bullet hole perfectly centered in his forehead.

Salvatore spun around.

Luca stood in the doorway of the library. He was bleeding from a graze wound on his arm, but his eyes were completely dead.

He aimed his gun directly at his father’s chest.

“Hello, old man,” Luca said.

Salvatore didn’t flinch. He leaned on his cane and smiled. “Luca. You look tired. The FBI hasn’t been treating you well.”

“Put the cane down,” Luca ordered.

“Or what? You’ll shoot your own father?” Salvatore sneered. “You don’t have the stomach for it. You proved that when you tried to go legitimate.”

“You ordered the fire,” Luca said, his voice shaking with restrained fury. “You killed my wife. You tried to burn your own granddaughter alive.”

“I tried to cleanse the bloodline!” Salvatore roared, banging his cane on the floor. “Elena was weak! She was going to turn us in! I ordered Dante to eliminate her so you could take your rightful place as the Don!”

“My place,” Luca whispered, “is with my family.”

Salvatore laughed. “What family? A maid? You are a Moretti, Luca! You were born in blood, and you will die in blood. Now put the gun down and open that vault. I am taking Sophie to Italy. She will be raised properly.”

Salvatore reached inside his coat, pulling a silver revolver.

He aimed it at my head.

“Open the vault, Luca, or the maid dies right now.”

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