Chapter 6 – The Rosary At The Shipyards

The Brooklyn shipyards were a graveyard of rusted metal and towering cranes, shrouded in a thick, freezing fog.

Lorenzo Moretti walked alone.

His men were stationed miles away, securing Leo’s transport to the airport. He had ordered them not to follow. This was family business.

At the center of Pier 44, illuminated by the harsh headlights of four black SUVs, stood Silas Moretti.

Silas was an elegant man, wearing a pristine camel overcoat, smoking a thin cigar.

Kneeling on the wet concrete in front of him, hands bound behind his back, was Frank Vance.

Frank looked terrible. His face was bruised, his breathing shallow. But when he saw Lorenzo walking out of the fog, Frank shook his head weakly, a silent reprimand.

“Enzo,” Silas smiled, spreading his arms wide. “You always were dramatic. Walking into your own grave just to prove a point.”

“Let him go, Silas,” Lorenzo said, his voice echoing off the shipping containers. He didn’t draw his weapon. He kept his hands at his sides.

“Why?” Silas chuckled. “Because he babysat the boy? Frank is a traitor, Enzo. He played you. He played the Costas. He only cared about his daughter.”

“He did his job,” Lorenzo said, stopping twenty feet away. “Now I’m doing mine. You want the seat at the head of the table? It’s yours. Let Frank walk.”

Silas took a drag of his cigar. The red cherry glowed in the mist.

“The problem, Enzo, is that you think this is a negotiation,” Silas sighed. “It’s not. The Commission has already agreed. You brought weakness into this family. You let a mechanic’s daughter turn you soft.”

Silas nodded to the men holding assault rifles behind him.

“Kill them both,” Silas ordered.

Lorenzo braced himself, reaching for the gun at his back. He knew he wouldn’t draw it in time.

But the gunfire didn’t come from Silas’s men.

It came from above.

A sniper bullet tore through the shoulder of the guard standing closest to Frank. The man screamed, dropping his rifle.

A second bullet shattered the headlight of the lead SUV, plunging half the pier into darkness.

Silas panicked, drawing his own pistol and ducking behind a car door. “Where is it coming from?!”

Lorenzo didn’t hesitate. He drew his weapon and sprinted forward, diving behind a stack of wooden pallets as Silas’s remaining men opened fire blindly into the fog.

High above them, perched on the catwalk of a massive cargo crane, Elena Vance lowered the heavy, scoped hunting rifle she had retrieved from the Grand Central locker.

Her father hadn’t just left her cash. He had left her his tools.

Her shoulder throbbed from the recoil, but her hands were steady.

Breathe in. Hold. Squeeze.

She fired again, taking out the tire of the SUV Silas was using for cover.

Below, Lorenzo used the distraction perfectly. He moved with brutal efficiency, taking down two of Silas’s men with precise shots to the chest.

Frank, despite his bindings, threw his body weight backward, knocking the remaining guard off balance just as Lorenzo put a bullet in the man’s leg.

Suddenly, silence fell over the pier.

The remaining guards had fled into the fog.

Only Silas remained, pinned behind the ruined SUV.

“It’s over, Silas!” Lorenzo shouted, moving cautiously toward the vehicle, his gun leveled.

Elena slung the rifle over her shoulder and began the rapid climb down the crane ladder.

By the time her feet hit the concrete, Lorenzo had Silas disarmed and on his knees next to Frank.

Elena ran toward them, dropping the heavy rifle and pulling out her father’s butter knife to slash the zip ties binding Frank’s hands.

“You crazy kid,” Frank coughed, slumping into her arms. “I told you to get on the train.”

“You taught me how to shoot, Dad,” Elena cried, holding him tight. “Did you really think I’d run?”

Lorenzo stood over Silas. The older man looked up, defiance still burning in his eyes.

“You kill me, Enzo, the Commission will hunt you to the ends of the earth,” Silas spat.

Lorenzo pulled the silver rosary from his pocket.

He threw it into Silas’s lap.

“You sold out our family to the Costas,” Lorenzo said coldly. “The Commission won’t hunt me. They’ll thank me.”

Lorenzo raised his gun.

“Wait,” Elena said, standing up.

Lorenzo paused, looking at her.

Elena walked over to Silas. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.

She reached down, picked up the silver rosary, and wrapped it tightly around Silas’s wrist.

“Tell the Costas the Vance family repays its debts,” Elena whispered.

She looked at Lorenzo and nodded.

Lorenzo didn’t pull the trigger. He simply stepped back and hit a button on his phone.

Headlights suddenly flooded the pier from every direction. Dozens of Lorenzo’s men poured out of the fog, surrounding Silas.

“Take him to the Commission,” Lorenzo ordered. “Let them deliver the sentence.”

Silas was dragged away, screaming curses into the dark.

Lorenzo turned to Elena. His chest heaved as he looked at the waitress who had just saved his life. Again.

He walked over to her, ignoring the blood and the dirt, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely in the freezing rain.

“You stayed,” he murmured against her lips.

“I stayed,” she answered.

TITLE: The Heavy Gold Ring

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