Chapter 10 - THE MAN WHO SURVIVED THE BULLETMarco was found six hours later.
He stumbled into a police station wearing a stolen hospital gown beneath a winter coat. His surgical wound had reopened, and he collapsed before reaching the front desk.
When he woke, he asked for me.
Dante objected.
Detective Ruiz objected to Dante objecting.
I went anyway.
Marco lay in a guarded room with tubes attached to both arms. His face was gray.
“I thought they took you,” I said.
“They tried.”
“How did you escape?”
“A nurse helped me through the laundry elevator.”
“Where is she?”
Marco’s eyes filled with fear.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Ruiz leaned forward.
“Start at the beginning.”
Marco looked toward the door.
“Is Moretti outside?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Which one?”
“Dante.”
He relaxed slightly.
That response told me more than his words.
“Vittorio approached me nine months ago,” Marco said. “I owed money from card games. He offered to clear the debt if I gave him information.”
“What kind?”
“Private reservations. Employee addresses. Deliveries. Which politicians met Dante.”
“And me?”
“At first, nothing. Then Jake saw your employment application.”
My stomach tightened.
“He knew who I was.”
“He recognized Liam’s name. Vittorio ordered me to hire you.”
The room tilted.
I had believed getting the job was luck.
Marco had interviewed twelve women. He chose me within ten minutes.
“Everything was planned.”
“I didn’t know Jake was hurting you.”
“You called him when I fainted.”
“He told me to contact him if anything unusual happened.”
“You saw the bruises.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
He had no answer.
Detective Ruiz placed a recorder on the table.
“What did Vittorio want from Emma?”
“Her mother’s files. He believed Eleanor would reveal the hiding place if Emma was in danger.”
“Jake had me for two years,” I said. “Why didn’t he simply force me to ask her?”
“He tried. The attic boxes. The storage unit. The questions about your father.”
I remembered every moment.
Jake carrying boxes for my mother.
Jake volunteering to organize old papers.
Jake encouraging me to reconnect with relatives.
The relationship had been an investigation.
The violence had begun when he realized I knew nothing.
“Did he ever love me?” I asked.
Marco looked away.
That was answer enough.
“Why did Vittorio take your son?” Ruiz asked.
“Because I told Dante’s men Jake had called Marello’s before Emma collapsed.”
“Where is your son now?”
Marco’s face broke.
“They sent me a photograph this morning.”
He reached toward the bedside drawer.
Inside was a printed image of a teenage boy tied to a chair.
A digital clock stood beside him.
The time displayed 6:00.
“What happens at six?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Ruiz took the photograph.
“We will identify the location.”
“The background,” Dante said from the doorway.
Ruiz turned.
“I told you to remain outside.”
“You did.”
He pointed at the image.
“The tiles behind the chair. Green and white.”
Marco stared at him.
“What about them?”
“They were used in the locker rooms of the old Moretti Athletic Club.”
“Where is that?”
“South Halsted. Closed twelve years ago.”
Ruiz called her team.
Dante entered.
“Why was it closed?” I asked.
“Fire.”
“Was anyone killed?”
“Three men.”
“Accident?”
“No.”
The Moretti family seemed to own a cemetery full of unfinished stories.
Police raided the athletic club at noon.
Marco’s son, Gabriel, was found alive in a basement locker room.
Beside him was the missing nurse.
She had been forced to keep him sedated but had refused to give him a lethal dose.
They also found eleven crates of military-grade weapons.
Thomas’s old investigation had come back to life.
Vittorio’s network was not a relic.
It was active.
That afternoon, federal agents arrived.
Their leader introduced herself as Special Agent Naomi Ward.
My father recognized her name.
“You were in training when I disappeared,” he said.
“And you were supposed to remain in protection.”
“You lost my son.”
Agent Ward’s expression remained controlled.
“We are investigating the correctional officers involved.”
“You should investigate your own office.”
She did not deny the possibility.
The recovered documents were divided between federal custody and Dante’s attorneys. Copies were made in three separate locations.
For the first time, Vittorio could not destroy the truth by burning one box.
But the letter to Dante had disappeared.
“Who had access?” I asked.
“Police, federal agents, paramedics, cemetery staff,” Ruiz answered.
“And Dante’s men.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Yes.”
Dante stood across the room.
Sofia had named someone still working for him.
Someone who might have taken the letter.
“Who did she name?” I asked again.
Dante remained silent.
“Tell me.”
“Luca.”
The room went cold.
The man with the burned jaw had carried weapons for Dante, guarded my mother, helped rescue Liam, and stood beside us at every critical moment.
“He was involved in Sofia’s death?”
“He was Adrian’s driver. Sofia wrote that Luca delivered her back to the house the night she died.”
“Did he know what would happen?”
“He claims he did not.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He disappeared an hour ago.”
Detective Ruiz cursed.
Dante’s phone rang.
Luca’s name appeared.
He answered.
Heavy breathing filled the line.
“Boss,” Luca said, “I didn’t betray Sofia.”
“Where are you?”
“You need to see what was on the missing page.”
“Bring it back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because the page says Thomas Foster ordered the hit.”
Everyone turned toward my father.
Thomas went pale.
May you like
Luca continued.
“And I have the recording that proves it.”
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