Chapter 7 - Shattered Glass
The emergency council meeting lasted two hours behind heavy mahogany doors, while I waited in the adjoining private library under the watchful eye of Dante.
When Luca finally emerged, his tie was loosened, his knuckles bruised, but his expression was triumphant. The Commission had ruled in his favor; Matteo Castiglione was stripped of his northern shipping routes as penance for the unsanctioned hit on the Moretti estate.
"We're leaving," Luca said, taking my hand. "We collect Leo from the penthouse suite and go home."
"Did it go well?" I asked, struggling to match his long, urgent strides toward the private elevator bank.
"Too well," Luca muttered, his eyes darting across the empty hallway. "Matteo conceded without a fight. He’s planning something. He wouldn't give up thirty million a year without an ambush."
We stepped into the private elevator. Luca pressed the button for the twelfth floor, his thumb resting nervously against the hilt of his concealed firearm. Dante stood by the doors, his weapon already drawn and held low against his leg.
*Ding.*
The elevator doors slid open onto the twelfth-floor hallway.
The smell hit us first.
Cordite and copper.
Two of Luca’s guards lay sprawled on the patterned runner carpet outside Suite 1204, their bodies motionless.
"No," Luca breathed, the word torn from his soul.
He didn't wait. He surged out of the elevator like a guided missile, his gun raised, clearing the doorway of the suite with terrifying speed. Dante followed, shouting into his radio for immediate reinforcements.
I ran in behind them, terror screaming in my ears.
The suite was wrecked. Furniture overturned, lamps shattered. Rosa was sitting on the floor in the corner, sobbing, her hands pressed against a bleeding gash on her temple.
"The terrace!" Rosa screamed, pointing trembling fingers toward the open French doors. "They have Leo! A man in a waiter’s uniform—he took him out to the fire escape!"
Luca didn't hesitate. He tore through the shattered French doors onto the rain-swept terrace overlooking the Philadelphia skyline. Twelve stories below, the city was a blur of yellow cabs and wet asphalt.
Standing on the metal fire escape platform ten feet below the terrace railing was a man dressed in black, holding a duffel bag with Leo’s pale, terrified face peeking out from the unzipped top. Leo saw his father and screamed—a piercing, desperate wail that cut through the pouring rain.
Beside the kidnapper stood Matteo Castiglione, holding a silenced pistol pointed directly at the infant’s head.
"Stop right there, Moretti!" Matteo shouted over the wind. "Drop the iron or the bastard child takes a dive!"
Luca stopped at the terrace edge, his gun hand trembling with a rage so violent his entire frame shook.
"Matteo," Luca said, his voice dropping into a ragged, guttural growl. "Let the boy go. Take me. You want the territory, you want my life—take it. Let my son go."
"You took everything from me!" Matteo spat, rain plastering his silver hair to his forehead. "You humiliated me in front of the families! Your father took my father’s seat, and now you think you can push me into the dirt? No. You’re going to watch your legacy shatter on the pavement below."
Matteo nodded to the man holding the duffel bag. The man turned toward the iron railing of the fire escape, preparing to drop the bag into the void.
"No!" I screamed.
I didn't think. There was no strategy, no tactical calculation.
From the corner of the terrace, near the maintenance access, a heavy brass fire extinguisher was mounted on the brick wall. I grabbed it with both hands, using every ounce of strength I had, and hurled it over the railing with a desperate scream.
The heavy cylinder plummeted ten feet, striking the kidnapper squarely across the shoulder and neck with a sickening crunch.
The man screamed, losing his balance on the wet iron grating. As he stumbled backward, the duffel bag slipped from his grasp, wedging precariously between the iron railing and the edge of the metal platform, swaying over the twelve-story drop.
Leo shrieked in terror.
Matteo turned his gun toward me with a roar of fury. "You bitch!"
He never got to pull the trigger.
The moment Matteo’s focus shifted, Luca fired.
Three shots, spaced half a second apart. Two through Matteo’s chest, one through his forehead. The older mobster collapsed backward over the railing, plummeting twelve stories into the alley below without a sound.
Luca was already vaulting the terrace railing before Matteo’s body even hit the ground.
He landed on the fire escape with a bone-jarring crash, dropping to his stomach, his arm shooting through the iron bars to catch the strap of the duffel bag just as it began to slide into the abyss.
With a primal roar of effort, Luca hauled the bag up onto the platform, ripping the zipper open and pulling Leo into his arms.
The rain poured down in blinding sheets.
Luca collapsed against the wet brick wall of the building, holding his screaming son against his chest, sobbing openly into the baby's wet hair.
"I've got you," Luca choked out, his voice broken into a thousand pieces. "I've got you, Leo. Baba’s here. Baba’s here."
I leaned over the terrace railing, clutching the cold metal, my legs completely giving out beneath me. I sank to my knees on the wet concrete, burying my face in my trembling hands, weeping from the sheer, suffocating relief.
Footsteps clattered on the iron stairs.
A moment later, Luca stood above me on the terrace. He held Leo safely tucked inside his jacket against his chest. With his free hand, he reached down, grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me up against him.
He didn't speak. He slammed his mouth down on mine.
The kiss was desperate, tasting of rain, salt, and raw, frantic hunger. His fingers tangled into my soaked hair, anchoring me against him as if I were the only thing tethering him to the earth. Leo whimpered between us, his little hands reaching out to clutch both of our coats, binding us together in the dark.
When Luca finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my lips.
May you like
"You saved my son," he whispered, his dark eyes blazing with an emotion that terrified me more than any bullet ever could. "You belong to us now, Avery. I am never letting you go."
***
