Chapter 7 – THE DRAWING IN THE POCKET

Luca held the drawing up in the rain. The wet paper clung to his fingers, but the crayon image was clear: a little girl holding hands with a man wearing a police uniform.

“Lucy drew this,” Luca said. “It’s a picture of her father. Detective Marcus Russo. The man you and your father had murdered six years ago when he started asking too many questions about a fake hit-and-run.”

Vanessa’s hand trembled so violently I thought she would drop the gun.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My mother. Anna’s husband. Vanessa hadn’t just covered up a drunk driving accident; she had built a mountain of corpses to protect her position as the future mafia queen.

“He was going to expose us!” Vanessa shrieked. “He wouldn’t stop digging! I had to protect our family, Luca! I did it for us!”

“There is no us,” Luca said, stepping closer. “There never was.”

“Stay back!” she aimed the gun directly at Luca’s chest.

From my hiding spot behind the container, I saw her finger tighten on the trigger. She was going to kill him.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

I picked up a heavy rusted iron bolt from the ground and hurled it as hard as I could at the sedan’s headlight.

The glass shattered with a loud crack.

Vanessa jumped, swinging the gun toward the noise.

It was only a second of distraction, but for a man like Luca, it was an eternity. He lunged.

He slammed into Vanessa, driving her away from Anna. The gun went off with a deafening roar, the bullet sparking harmlessly off a metal container.

Luca grabbed Vanessa’s wrist, twisting it until she screamed and dropped the weapon. He shoved her to the wet ground, pinning her with his knee.

“Marco!” Luca shouted.

Marco and three other guards materialized from the shadows. They grabbed Vanessa, dragging her up by her arms.

“Let me go!” she thrashed wildly, her red dress torn, her elegant hair a tangled mess. “Luca, you need me! My father controls the ports!”

“Your father is currently handcuffed in a safe house,” Luca said coldly. “Take her to the basement of the warehouse. Make sure she doesn’t speak to anyone.”

As they dragged her away, her screams fading into the storm, I ran to Anna.

I pulled a pocketknife from my coat and cut the zip-ties binding her wrists. She collapsed into my arms, shivering violently.

“You’re safe,” I told her, wrapping my dry coat around her shoulders. “Lucy is safe.”

Anna grabbed my hands, her tears warm against my freezing skin. “Emma… your mother. She was the bravest woman I ever met. She saved me.”

Luca walked over and knelt beside us. He looked at Anna, the woman he had once loved, the woman who had suffered so much.

“I’m sorry, Anna,” he whispered. “I should have protected you. I should have protected Marcus.”

“You didn’t know,” Anna cried. “Richard made me swear never to tell you. He said you ordered the hit on Marcus.”

Luca closed his eyes, the weight of the betrayal heavy on his shoulders.

Then, he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a delicate gold chain holding a simple diamond necklace.

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