Chapter 5
The screech of the alarm vibrated through the study walls. Emergency strobes pulsed along the baseboards, casting harsh white flashes across Victor’s stoic face.
"That's not a real fire," Victor said quickly over the noise. "It's a diversion. They're drawing us toward the garage."
Alessandro lowered his weapon by half an inch, his mind calculating every variable. In the mafia, trust was a luxury that got men buried. But Victor had taken a bullet for Alessandro in Boston five years ago. A man who wanted to kill you didn't usually take a bullet for you first.
"If you're lying to me, Victor, I will bury you under the fountain outside," Alessandro said.
"Understood, Boss," Victor replied without hesitation. "Let me clear the back stairs. You get Emily and the kid."
"No," Alessandro ordered. "You stay in front of me."
They moved swiftly out of the study and toward the third-floor corridor. The fire alarm was echoing through the ventilation shafts, but there was no smell of smoke. It was a manual pull from the ground-floor utility room.
Alessandro reached Emily’s door. He rapped his knuckles against the wood: three taps, a pause, two taps.
The lock clicked instantly.
The door opened an inch. Emily peered out, her face pale, holding a brass fire poker in her trembling hands. Zoe was clutched behind her legs, still clutching her battered teddy bear.
"Mr. Romano," Emily breathed, lowering the poker. Then her eyes landed on Victor standing behind him. She flinched, pulling Zoe further into the room. "You brought him?"
"He's here under supervision," Alessandro said, stepping inside and motioning for Victor to remain in the doorway. "Get your coats. We're moving to the subterranean vault."
"Wait," Emily said, coughing violently into her elbow. "Mr. Romano, while you were downstairs... someone came to the balcony."
Alessandro’s head snapped toward the room’s small exterior terrace. "Did you see who it was?"
"No," Emily whispered, shivering. "They threw something through the glass pane before the alarm started."
Alessandro walked over to the desk near the balcony doors. A small, heavy object was wrapped in a greasy cloth on the floor.
He kicked the cloth aside.
It was an antique silver cigarette case. On the lid was the Romano family crest—a twin-headed falcon clutching an iron anchor.
Alessandro’s breath caught. He knew this case intimately. It had belonged to his brother Julian. Julian carried it everywhere.
Alessandro picked it up and flipped the clasp.
Inside was no tobacco. There was only a single, folded photograph.
May you like
Alessandro smoothed it out. It was a candid snapshot taken in an outdoor café in Rome. In the photo, a smiling Julian Romano had his arm wrapped tightly around a laughing woman with chestnut hair.
The woman was Emily.
