Chapter 8
The opera music swelled from inside the warehouse, filling the damp night air with a tragic, soaring melody. Marcus Moretti sat crossed-legged in a brown leather armchair. He wore an expensive cashmere sweater, completely dry and clean, despite the freezing rain outside. In his right hand, he held a high-powered hunting rifle equipped with an infrared scope. The red laser dot danced steadily across the front of Teresa’s navy coat. Luca froze mid-stride. His boot hovered inches from the ground. “Drop the gun, little brother,” Marcus said smoothly, taking a slow sip of his amber scotch. “One twitch of my finger, and our dear mother becomes modern art.” Teresa didn’t flinch. The 78-year-old woman stared straight at her eldest son with cold, unforgiving eyes. “Do it, Marcus,” Teresa’s voice rang out steady and clear. “Kill your mother. Finish the family legacy of slaughter.” Marcus chuckled softly, though his eyes remained dead and calculating. “Oh, Mother, don’t be dramatic. I don’t want to kill you. I want Luca to watch you die so he feels the exact same agony I felt when father disinherited me.” Luca slowly lowered his submachine gun. He placed it gently on the wet concrete floor. “Let her go, Marcus,” Luca said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. “This is between you and me. It has always been between us.” Marcus stood up from the armchair, setting his scotch glass down on a wooden crate. He kept the rifle leveled squarely at Teresa’s chest. “You always took everything, Luca,” Marcus snarled, his polite facade cracking to reveal a deep, festering hatred. “Father’s approval. The CEO seat of the syndicate. And yes—even Catherine.” Sofia stepped out from behind a shipping container. “Catherine was your sister-in-law, you sick bastard!” Sofia screamed. Marcus glanced at her and smirked. “She was a liability, Sofia. Just like you are right now.” He flicked the rifle barrel slightly toward Sofia. My heart leapt into my throat. I looked down at my hand. The tiny black flash drive was clutched in my fist. If I could distract Marcus for just one second—just one split second—the enforcers flanking the side entrance could take the shot. I took a slow, silent step to the left, sliding behind a rusted oil drum. “You think you won because you have a little plastic drive in your pocket, Hannah?” Marcus suddenly laughed, looking directly at me. I gasped. He knew I had it. “Thomas told you before you knocked him out,” Marcus continued with a grin. “He told me everything. That little maid is carrying the financial ledgers of the entire organization.” Luca’s head snapped toward me. “Hannah, throw it here,” Luca commanded quietly. “No, Mr. Moretti!” I shouted. “If he gets it, we have no leverage!” Marcus grinned wider. “She’s smarter than you are, Luca. Too bad she’s about to die.” Marcus’s finger tightened on the rifle trigger. The red laser dot locked firmly onto my chest. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. I saw the pressure building in Marcus’s index finger. I saw the rain droplets suspended in the air between us. I saw Luca lunging forward with a roar of pure agony. And then, from the shadows above the warehouse rafters, a dark figure dropped silently through the open skylight.CRASH! It was Thomas—battered, bloody, but holding a heavy iron chain. He swung the chain with brutal force across Marcus’s back. Marcus screamed in pain, his rifle firing wildly into the metal ceiling as he collapsed forward.BANG! The bullet pierced the corrugated iron roof, showering us in sparks. Marcus dropped the rifle and rolled across the concrete floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Luca didn’t hesitate. He lunged across the room like a striking panther, grabbing Marcus by the collar of his cashmere sweater and slamming him against the brick wall.THUD! “You son of a bitch,” Luca hissed, pressing his forearm hard against Marcus’s windpipe. Marcus choked for air, a bloody smile plastered across his bruised face. “Go ahead… kill me,” Marcus wheezed. “You still don’t know… where the offshore accounts are… only I have the codes.” Luca raised his fist, ready to shatter his brother’s jaw. “Mr. Moretti, wait!” I shouted, running forward. Luca paused, breathing heavily, his knuckles white. “What?” Luca snapped. I held up the black flash drive. “You don’t need his codes, Mr. Moretti.” I looked straight at Marcus, whose eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror. “Thomas wasn’t the only one who backed up the server,” I said, my voice echoing in the damp warehouse. “When I worked as the estate archivist before being demoted to maid, I copied the master keys to the primary offshore vault.” Marcus went completely white. “That’s impossible,” Marcus whispered. “Only the founding partner has those keys.” I smiled coldly—a look I didn't even know I was capable of. “My father taught me well before he lost everything to your syndicate, Marcus.” CLIFFHANGER: Before Luca could strike the final blow, the warehouse sirens suddenly wailed outside, and through the shattered windows, dozens of red and blue police lights flashed, accompanied by a megaphone announcing that the entire perimeter was surrounded by federal agents.
