Chapter 6 - The Sanctuary in the Woods
Saint Mary’s Sanctuary sat perched on a dark, pine-forested ridge overlooking the Hudson River. The stone building was ancient, dark, and silent, illuminated only by flashes of lightning from the storm above.
Victor moved through the rain-swept courtyard with smooth, lethal efficiency. Frank and four elite Santoro bodyguards flanked him, their weapons raised in tight formation.
Celestine was dragged along behind them by Frank, her high heels clicking uselessly against the wet stone steps.
They kicked open the heavy oak double doors of the sanctuary, stepping into a dimly lit marble lobby. The air inside smelled of rubbing alcohol, old wood, and fresh rain.
Two Mercenaries dressed in dark Vale tactical gear stepped out from the main hallway, raising their rifles.
Victor fired two controlled bursts from his tactical rifle without slowing his pace. Both mercenaries collapsed to the floor before they could pull their triggers.
"Clear the floor," Victor ordered flatly.
They moved down the long, quiet medical corridor, stopping before a heavy steel door marked ROOM 104 - PRIVATE INTENSIVE CARE.
The door was locked with a heavy electronic keypad.
Victor didn't wait for a code. He raised his heavy boot, delivering a devastating kick directly beside the lock mechanism. The steel frame groaned, and the door swung open with a violent crash.
Inside, the room was softly lit by amber lamps. Sitting in a high-backed velvet armchair near a stone fireplace was an elderly woman.
She wore a dark blue woolen cardigan, her soft white hair styled neatly, her hands resting quietly in her lap.
When the door crashed open, she didn't panic. She slowly turned her head, her dark, sharp eyes locking onto Victor’s tall frame standing in the doorway.
Victor froze. His tactical rifle lowered slightly in his hands. His broad chest heaved as he stared at the woman he hadn't seen since he was twelve years old.
The woman rose slowly from her chair, her small frame dignified and erect despite her age. She took two weak steps forward, her dark eyes filling with tears as she looked at Victor's rugged, battle-hardened face.
"Victor..." Eleanor Santoro whispered, her voice soft, melodic, and filled with forty years of buried love. "My boy... you came."
Victor dropped his weapon onto the carpet. He crossed the room in two strides, falling to his knees before his mother, and wrapped his broad, muscular arms around her small frame, pulling her tight against his chest.
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Eleanor cupped his rugged cheek with her frail hand, tears spilling over her fair, rosy cheeks. "I waited for you, Victor. Every single day."
Behind them in the doorway, Celestine stood frozen, her arrogant smile finally vanishing as she watched the powerful Mafia Boss weeping softly against his mother's shoulder.
