Chapter 6
The sudden darkness was thick and disorienting, pierced only by the faint, cinematic red glow of the emergency exit signs scattered along the concrete walls. Hannah gasped, freezing in her tracks. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She clutched Sophia tightly to her chest, the little girl’s pale-yellow dress bright against the dim shadows.
Luca did not panic. The Chicago Mafia boss shifted smoothly, placing his tall, muscular body directly between Hannah and the direction of Marcus’s voice. His dark suit made him nearly invisible in the gloom, a shadow among shadows, radiating a terrifying, commanding presence.
"Get behind the concrete pillar to your left, Hannah," Luca ordered, his voice a low, lethal whisper. "Do not make a sound."
Hannah nodded frantically in the dark. She moved quickly, her mint-green service dress swishing softly against her legs, and pressed her plus-sized frame behind a massive structural column, shielding the fragile three-year-old in her arms.
"You always were too predictable, Marcus," Luca called out, his deep, resonant voice echoing through the massive garage, masking his exact location. "Cutting the power? Very dramatic. But you forgot that I built this building."
"I didn't forget anything, Boss," Marcus’s voice echoed back, closer this time. The distinct clack of a weapon being chambered cut through the silence. "I just knew you wouldn't trust the hallways. You’re too smart for that. But you’re too soft when it comes to the girl. You should have let the Falcones take her three years ago. It would have saved us all a lot of trouble."
Luca’s intense, piercing eyes adapted rapidly to the dark. He caught a flicker of movement near the ramp—two men, moving tactically, trying to flank his last known position.
"Why did you do it, Marcus?" Luca asked, his tone deceptively conversational as he silently moved to the right, angling for a clear shot. "I paid you millions. I gave you power in this city. Why sell out my family to the Falcones?"
"Because the Falcones promised me your chair, Luca!" Marcus spat, frustration and greed bleeding into his American accent. "You’ve gone soft since your wife died! You spend all your time hovering over a crippled kid instead of running the syndicate! We need a king, not a grieving father!"
Behind the pillar, Sophia buried her rosy face into Hannah’s neck, terrified by the angry voices echoing in the dark. Hannah rocked her gently, tears of pure terror slipping down her cheeks, her white lace apron trembling. Please, God, let him win, Hannah prayed silently.
"My daughter," Luca said, his voice dropping into a register of pure, demonic fury that chilled the air in the garage, "is not crippled. She walked tonight. And because she walked, she led me to the woman who can identify you as a traitor."
"A plus-sized waitress in a maid's costume," Marcus laughed coldly from the darkness. "I'm going to put a bullet in her, and then I'm going to tell the Commission you died defending her."
Luca didn't respond with words. He didn't need to.
With lightning speed, Luca raised his suppressed weapon and fired twice into the shadows where Marcus’s voice had originated. The suppressed shots were quiet, deadly thwips in the dark. A heavy body hit the concrete floor with a wet thud. It wasn't Marcus, but one of his flanking guards.
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"He's moving!" Marcus yelled, panic finally replacing his arrogant confidence.
Luca advanced like a predator. He was exceptionally handsome, but in the dark, he was a nightmare of lethal efficiency. He didn't rely on graphic, messy violence; he relied on absolute, terrifying precision. He moved silently around the flank, his polished dress shoes making no sound, closing the distance between himself and the man who had betrayed his family.
