Chapter 13 - THE EMPTY BED
I slammed the bedroom door shut behind us, locking the heavy brass deadbolt.
“Nonna!” I called out, my voice echoing in the dark room.
“Nonna Antonella!”
No answer.
The room was freezing.
The French doors leading to the balcony stood wide open, heavy velvet curtains billowing in the freezing Chicago wind.
I rushed to the bed.
Nonna Antonella was gone.
The sheets were cold.
Resting neatly in the center of the mattress was a single red silk rose.
The exact same flower Isabella had worn in her hair at Sunday dinner.
“They took her,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
Marco stepped onto the balcony, scanning the grounds below with a pocket flashlight.
“Salvatore didn't take her,” Marco said grimly, pointing down at the driveway.
I joined him on the balcony.
Far below, a sleek black town car was speeding away through the open gates.
And in the passenger seat, illuminated by the dashboard light, was Isabella Romano.
Holding Nonna Antonella hostage.
“They're taking her to the old docks,” Marco realized instantly.
“That's where Salvatore keeps his headquarters.”
I gripped the cold iron railing until my knuckles turned white.
For seven years, I was the quiet wife.
The one who stayed home.
The one who took the insults and smiled through the betrayal.
No more.
“Marco,” I said, my voice dangerously calm.
He looked at me, surprised by the cold fury in my eyes.
“Yeah, Claire?”
“Get the keys to Gabriel's armored SUV.”
Marco grinned faintly.
May you like
“Gladly.”
[CLIFFHANGER: Claire and Marco arrive at the abandoned shipping warehouse at the docks, where Isabella and Uncle Salvatore hold Nonna Antonella at gunpoint over a freezing Chicago river.]
