Chapter 11 - THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL
"Jenna?" I gasped, taking a half-step forward.
Jenna couldn't even look me in the eye.
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with mascara.
"I'm sorry, Tessa," she choked out, her voice shaking violently. "I had no choice. They have my son."
Richard smiled, tapping his fingers against the pistol grip.
"Nobody has clean hands in South Philly, Tessa. Rule number one."
Matteo didn't lower his shotgun, but his muscles tightened like coiled steel.
"Let the girl go, Richard," Matteo warned, his voice dangerously low. "She has nothing to do with this."
"She has the journals, Matteo," Richard replied smoothly. "And more importantly, she has the encryption key your father spent fifteen years trying to destroy."
Richard stood up slowly, keeping the gun pressed against Jenna's head.
"Put your weapons on the floor. Both of you."
"Don't do it, Matteo," I whispered.
"Quiet, Tessa," Richard snapped. "Or I start with your sweet little coworker."
Matteo exchanged a lightning-fast glance with me.
A silent communication passed between us.
Years of surviving in the shadows taught both of us how to read a room in milliseconds.
"Alright, Richard," Matteo said, slowly lowering his shotgun toward the hardwood floor. "You win."
"Drop it completely. Slide it over."
Matteo let the heavy shotgun slide across the shattered floorboards toward Richard's feet.
Richard laughed softly, taking a step forward to kick the weapon away.
"Smart boy. Now, Tessa, place the briefcase on the table."
My hands shook as I lifted the battered leather case.
I set it down on the scratched Formica table.
"Open it."
I popped the brass clasps.
The journals lay exposed inside.
Richard reached out with his left hand, his eyes gleaming with greed.
"Finally," he whispered. "Ten years of hunting..."
It was the exact distraction Matteo needed.
With blinding speed, Matteo didn't reach for his gun—he kicked the heavy wooden kitchen table upward with all his might.
The table smashed directly into Richard's chest, sending him crashing backward into the kitchen counter.
Richard's gun discharged wildly, the bullet shattering the ceiling light.
Jenna screamed, stumbling backward onto the floor.
"Run!" Matteo yelled at me.
Before Richard could recover, Matteo lunged forward, tackling him through the open kitchen archway.
They hit the floor in a brutal tangle of limbs and fists.
I grabbed Jenna by the arm, hauling her up.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes! Yes!" she sobbed.
"Get out of the building! Now!"
As Jenna bolted toward the stairs, a heavy metallic click echoed behind me.
I turned around slowly.
A second man—a heavy-set operative I hadn't seen—stepped out of my bedroom.
He held an automatic pistol aimed squarely at my head.
"End of the game, sweetheart," the operative sneered.
Before he could pull the trigger, the hallway window shattered inward in a shower of glass.
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Luca dropped in from the fire escape, a heavy iron crowbar swinging in a deadly arc.
THE END OF CHAPTER 11
