Chapter 11 – THE FINAL CHOICE

Time seemed to stop in the library.

Salvatore’s silver revolver was aimed squarely between my eyes. His hand was perfectly steady despite his age.

Luca stood in the doorway, his own gun leveled at his father’s heart.

“Don’t do it, Luca,” I choked out, my ribs screaming in pain as I pressed myself against the oak desk. “Don’t open the door.”

“Shut your mouth,” Salvatore snapped. He looked at his son. “Five seconds, Luca. Choose. The girl in the vault, or the woman on the floor.”

Luca’s face was a mask of agony. He was trapped between the ghosts of his violent past and the hope of a peaceful future.

“Dad,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Please. I am begging you. Walk away.”

“A Moretti never begs,” Salvatore spat in disgust. “One.”

“Luca, shoot him!” I cried.

“Two.” Salvatore cocked the hammer of his revolver.

Luca’s hand began to shake. He couldn’t pull the trigger on his own father. The conditioning of a lifetime in the syndicate held him hostage.

“Three.”

I looked at the brick of C4 resting on the floor near the dead guard. It was only three feet away from me. The detonator was still attached.

“Four,” Salvatore said, his finger tightening on the trigger.

I didn’t wait for five.

I dove across the rug, grabbing the explosive brick in both hands.

Salvatore fired.

The bullet grazed my shoulder, tearing through my dress and embedding itself in the oak desk behind me. I screamed, but I didn’t drop the C4.

I hit the floor and rolled, throwing the explosive brick directly at Salvatore’s feet.

“Luca, down!” I screamed.

Luca threw himself backward into the hallway just as I slammed my hand down on the electronic detonator.

I didn’t trigger the explosion. I triggered the fifteen-second timer.

The detonator beeped loudly, a flashing red light echoing in the dark library.

Salvatore looked down at the brick of plastic explosives at his feet. His eyes went wide with sudden, absolute terror.

He tried to run, but his bad leg gave out. He collapsed to the floor, his silver cane clattering away from him.

“Luca!” Salvatore screamed, reaching a hand out toward the doorway. “Help me!”

Luca pulled himself up from the hallway floor. He walked to the threshold of the library. He looked at the timer.

Ten seconds.

He looked at his father, pathetic and crawling on the rug.

Then, Luca looked at me.

He ran into the room, grabbed me by the waist, and dragged me out of the library.

“Luca, please!” Salvatore begged from inside.

Luca slammed the heavy mahogany library doors shut.

“Get down!” he yelled, throwing me to the floor of the hallway and covering my body with his own.

The explosion tore through the back half of the mansion.

The ground shook violently, the sound deafening. Dust and debris rained down on us as the library windows blew out into the garden.

When the rumbling stopped, silence fell over the estate.

Luca slowly lifted his head. He looked down at me, wiping a streak of soot from my cheek.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’m alive,” I gasped, clutching my bleeding shoulder.

We slowly stood up. The library doors were blown off their hinges. Inside, the room was a smoldering ruin.

Salvatore Moretti was gone.

“Daddy!” a muffled voice cried.

We ran through the rubble. The bookshelf was obliterated, but the reinforced steel door of the panic room remained completely intact.

Luca punched the code into the keypad. The heavy door swung open.

Sophie threw herself into Luca’s arms, crying uncontrollably.

“I’ve got you,” Luca sobbed, burying his face in her curls. “It’s over, sweetie. It’s finally over.”

Sophie reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the hug.

The three of us sat on the floor of the ruined mansion, holding each other as the distant sound of police sirens filled the night air.

One year later.

I sat on the porch of a beautiful farmhouse in Tuscany, Italy. The rolling green hills stretched out endlessly under the warm setting sun.

I took a sip of iced tea and smiled as I watched Sophie riding a chestnut horse in the paddock, her laughter carrying on the breeze. Leo was leaning on the fence, cheering her on.

The front door opened, and Luca walked out onto the porch.

He handed me a piece of paper. It was a clipping from a Chicago newspaper.

Luca struck a match and held it to the corner of the newspaper. We watched it burn until it was nothing but ash, scattering in the Italian wind.

“No more ghosts,” Luca said softly, sitting beside me on the porch swing.

“No more ghosts,” I agreed.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I rested my head against his chest. I looked down at the diamond ring sparkling on my left hand, and the faded burn scars on my arm.

They weren’t reminders of a nightmare anymore.

They were proof that we survived.

And as the sun dipped below the Tuscan hills, I knew for the first time in my life, I was finally home.

[END OF STORY]

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