Chapter 11
The gunshot echoed like a thunderclap inside the wood-paneled study.CRACK! A cloud of white plaster exploded from the wall just inches from Luca’s shoulder. “Get down!” Luca roared, tackling his mother and me to the floor behind the heavy mahogany desk. Another bullet punched through the reinforced glass window, embedding itself deep into a stack of leather-bound law books. “Sniper!” I screamed, pressing my hands over my ears. “Where is it coming from?!” Teresa demanded, her voice entirely devoid of fear, filled only with fury. “The eastern tree line!” Luca shouted, pulling his submachine gun from beneath his coat. He didn’t hesitate. He kicked open the French doors leading out to the back patio, rolling across the stone slabs into the snowy dark.Rat-tat-tat-tat! The distinct stutter of automatic gunfire erupted outside. Silence fell over the yard a few seconds later. I helped Teresa up from the floor, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Are you alright, Mrs. Moretti?” I asked anxiously, checking her over for any injuries. “I’m fine, child,” the old woman said, her eyes flashing with anger. “They think they can terrorize my home? They have another thing coming.” Heavy footsteps approached the French doors. Luca stepped back into the study. His coat was torn, and a thin line of blood trickled down his cheek from a grazing glass shard. He looked grim. “Did you get him?” I asked. Luca shook his head, holstering his weapon. “No. He had a helicopter waiting in the tree line. He was gone before I reached the perimeter.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a small, metallic object that had fallen from the sniper’s perch outside. It was a brass cartridge casing. Engraved on the base of the brass was a single symbol: A coiled serpent. Luca’s expression darkened into an abyss of absolute rage. “The Serpents,” Luca whispered. “Who are they?” I asked, stepping closer. “A rival faction out of Detroit,” Luca explained, his jaw clenched so hard muscles rioted in his cheeks. “They were Marcus’s silent financial backers. When Marcus fell, they lost millions. They want revenge.” Teresa walked over to her son, placing a frail hand on his broad shoulder. “They want the Moretti empire, Luca,” the old woman said firmly. “They want everything we built. And they think we’re weak because your brother betrayed us.” Luca looked down at his mother, then turned his dark eyes toward me. “They don’t know who they’re dealing with,” Luca said softly. “And they certainly don’t know Hannah.” I blinked in surprise. “Me?” Luca walked over to the desk, picking up Catherine’s black-parchment letter. He folded it carefully and placed it inside his inner jacket pocket, right over his heart. “You found the flash drive, Hannah,” Luca said, his voice steady and resolute. “You protected my mother. And now, you know more about this syndicate’s secrets than any capo I’ve ever employed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy velvet box. He opened it. Inside rested an exquisite emerald ring set in platinum—the ancient Moretti matriarch ring. “Luca, what are you doing?” I whispered, taking a step back. “You’re no longer a maid, Hannah,” Luca said, stepping closer to me. The scent of cedarwood, rain, and gunsmoke washed over me. “You’re my partner in this war. And when this is over… I want you by my side as my equal.” Teresa smiled broadly, nodding in approval. I looked at the ring, then up into Luca’s dark, intense eyes. My mind raced. Just a week ago, I was scrubbing floors to pay my mother’s medical bills. Now, I was standing in the center of a bloody mob war, holding the key to an empire. “I’m not a mobster, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly. “Call me Luca,” he corrected gently. “And you don’t have to be a mobster to survive a storm, Hannah. You just have to be stronger than the wind.” Before I could answer, the mansion’s emergency power generator sputtered and died. The entire estate plunged into pitch blackness. Only the pale moonlight streaming through the shattered windows illuminated the room. And from the hallway outside, the slow, rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps echoed across the marble floor.Clack. Clack. Clack. Someone was walking through the house. And they hadn't broken in. They had a key. CLIFFHANGER: The heavy oak doors of the study slowly swung open, and stepping into the moonlight was a woman we thought was dead—Catherine herself—pointing a silver pistol directly at Luca’s chest.
