Chapter 6
The heat from the exploding gates washed over the greenhouse windows. Glass panes rattled violently in their iron frames. Smoke billowed into the cold night air, painting the sky a bruised, angry orange. Thomas laughed. A high, crazed sound that echoed off the damp glass walls. “You’re trapped!” Thomas yelled, wiping blood from his chin. “The entire estate is locked down! No cops! No help! Just you, me, and the old woman!” I didn’t reply. I gripped the wooden handle of the rake so tightly my knuckles turned white. Thomas pushed himself up from the shattered clay pots. He lunged toward the potting bench, his fingers closing around the heavy iron pruning shears. “Time to finish this,” he hissed. He charged at me with terrifying speed. I swung the rake again, but Thomas anticipated the move. He ducked under the metal tines and slammed his shoulder into my stomach. The impact knocked the wind completely out of my lungs. I flew backward, crashing hard onto the dirt floor. The flash drive slipped from my pocket, skittering across the soil into the dark shadows beneath a wooden shelf. “Got you,” Thomas panted, standing over me. He raised the heavy pruning shears high above his head, ready to plunge the steel blades downward. Teresa let out a muffled scream through her duct-tape gag.“Mmmph! Mmmph!” I twisted my body to the side just as the shears slammed into the dirt right where my head had been a second before. Dirt sprayed across my face. I kicked out with my heel, catching Thomas squarely behind his knee. He lost his balance with a yelp and crashed down onto his side. I scrambled across the floor like a wild animal. I reached under the wooden shelf, my fingers scraping against the cold dirt until they brushed against the hard plastic of the flash drive. I snatched it up. Thomas roared with fury, rolling over and grabbing my ankle. He dragged me backward toward him. “Give me that!” he snarled, clawing at my hand. I kicked backward with my free foot, striking him in the jaw. He grunted and loosened his grip just enough for me to wrench my leg free. I scrambled to my feet, panting heavily. Outside the greenhouse windows, the three unmarked black SUVs screeched to a halt. Doors flew open simultaneously. Men in tactical gear and heavy combat boots swarmed out. They weren't police officers. They wore unmarked black uniforms with silver patches. Enforcers. And leading them was a tall figure stepping out of the middle vehicle. It was Luca Moretti. His face was smeared with dried blood, a nasty gash bleeding freely across his forehead. His dark suit was torn at the shoulder. He looked like a man risen straight from the grave. Luca looked at the shattered greenhouse window. His eyes locked onto Thomas inside. And then his gaze shifted to me. “Hannah!” Luca’s voice boomed over the wind. “Get away from him!” Thomas froze. He looked toward the door, realizing his reinforcements hadn't arrived—his enemies had. Thomas smiled a bloody, desperate smile. “You think Luca wins?” Thomas whispered to me, his voice trembling. “Luca doesn’t even know who killed his wife. He thinks it was an accident. He has no idea his own brother—his own flesh and blood—ordered the hit.” My blood froze.His own brother? Not Thomas alone? Before I could process the words, Thomas grabbed the heavy iron shovel from the dirt. He didn't swing it at me. He swung it backward, shattering the rear glass wall of the greenhouse in one massive blow. He dived headfirst through the jagged opening into the snowy bushes outside. “After him!” Luca roared from the yard. Three tactical enforcers sprinted around the side of the structure like hounds on a scent. I rushed over to Teresa. I fell to my knees, frantically tearing the duct tape away from her mouth. “Oh, sweetheart!” Teresa sobbed, gasping for air as the tape came free. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” “I’m fine, Mrs. Moretti! Are you?” I asked, slicing the plastic zip ties around her wrists with a small pocket knife I found on the potting bench. “I’m old, Hannah, but I’m not broken,” Teresa whispered, rubbing her raw wrists. She grabbed my arm tightly. “Did you hear what Thomas said before he ran?” I nodded slowly, my heart pounding. “He said Luca’s brother.” Teresa’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “It wasn’t just Vanessa, Hannah. It was Marcus.” Marcus Moretti. Luca’s older brother. The exiled heir who had supposedly been living in Europe for the past five years. The heavy greenhouse door pushed open. Luca stepped inside. The harsh white light from the SUVs behind him cast a long, menacing shadow across the floor. He looked down at his mother, then down at me. He dropped to one knee between us. “Mom,” Luca whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerability I had never seen before. “I’m so sorry. I let them into this house.” Teresa pulled her son’s head against her shoulder. “You didn’t know, my boy,” she whispered. “You were blinded by ambition. Just like your father.” Luca pulled away slowly. He looked at me, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. “Hannah,” he said. “You have the flash drive.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small black device. I held it out to him. “It’s right here, Mr. Moretti.” Luca took it. He stood up, his face hardening into granite. “Marcus,” Luca whispered the name like a curse. “He’s been dead to this family for five years. But tonight… tonight he ends.” CLIFFHANGER: One of the tactical enforcers burst back into the greenhouse, panting heavily, holding a bloody walkie-talkie, and shouted, “Mr. Moretti, we caught Thomas, but Marcus just broadcasted a live audio file to every mob family in Chicago exposing Catherine’s murder!”
