Chapter 19 - THE UNOPENED SAFE
Inside the shattered cabin of the Suburban, the smell of burnt rubber and antifreeze was suffocating. The truck groaned, teetering on the edge of the abyss, the guardrail screaming under the unbearable strain.
“Don't move,” Vincent whispered, his voice deadly quiet. “Every inch shifts our center of gravity.”
The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, knocked unconscious by the airbag deployment. Matteo was bleeding from a gash across his temple, but his hands were steady on his weapon.
“Boss,” Matteo whispered, looking out the fractured window. “Twelve hostiles. We’re outgunned three to one, and we have zero cover if we kick the doors open.”
“They won't shoot the passenger compartment,” Vincent said, his eyes scanning the layout outside with chilling precision. “Julian needs the baby alive. He needs the genetic sample to access Locker 409. He can't open it without her.”
Vincent turned his head to look at me. His face was inches from mine. For the first time, I saw no fear in the mafia king’s eyes—only a profound, transcendent calm.
“Clara,” Vincent whispered. “Do you remember the night you stood at the top of the grand staircase, pregnant, terrified, holding that heavy suitcase with both hands while Vanessa screamed at you to let it fall?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “I remember.”
“You didn't drop it,” Vincent said softly, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek with an almost brotherly reverence. “You held on until your fingers bled because you knew Daniel’s legacy was inside. You are stronger than every soldier in this syndicate, Clara. You survived Vanessa. You survived my blindness. You will survive this.”
Vincent reached into his inner pocket and retrieved Daniel’s brass key. He pressed it into my palm, curling my trembling fingers around the cold metal.
“Matteo,” Vincent commanded in a voice of steel. “On my mark, you blow the left side passenger door with the breaching charge. You grab Clara and the baby, scramble up the rock embankment into the timberline, and you do not stop running until you hit the state highway.”
“Vincent, no!” I cried, grabbing his lapel. “What about you?!”
“Julian wants me,” Vincent said, a dark, terrifying smile touching his lips. “I’m going to give him what he wants.”
Before I could scream, Vincent lunged toward the driver’s side, kicking the door open with shattering force. The sudden shift in weight caused the Suburban to tilt further over the precipice, but Vincent hurled himself out onto the asphalt into plain view of Julian’s men.
“Hold your fire!” Julian’s voice boomed through the megaphone. “Do not shoot! Keep him alive!”
Vincent stood tall in the freezing mountain wind, rain plastering his hair to his forehead, his empty hands raised to the sky.
“Julian!” Vincent roared, his voice echoing across the gorge like thunder. “You want the Moretti empire?! You want the bloodline?! Come and take it from the man who conquered your father!”
Julian laughed—a high, arrogant, mocking sound. He lowered the megaphone and stepped forward, flanked by four bodyguards. “Always dramatic, Vincent. Where is the child? Where is the little maid?”
“Gone,” Vincent lied smoothly, stepping forward to draw their attention completely away from the shattered rear of the truck. “I put them on a train at Scranton while you were chasing shadows. You missed them, Julian. You’re too late.”
Julian’s face twisted in sudden, rabid fury. “Liar!”
*“NOW!”* Vincent’s voice cracked like a whip.
At that exact second, Matteo detonated the small shaped charge on the Suburban’s left door. The blast blew the door outward into the ditch, creating a blinding flash of white light and concussive smoke.
Matteo grabbed my waist, hauling me and Hope out of the smoking wreck into the freezing mud of the drainage ditch. I clutched Hope against my chest with every ounce of strength in my body, scrambling on my knees through the freezing gravel, clawing my way up the steep, wooded embankment.
Behind us, hell erupted.
Vincent didn't dive for cover. As the flashbang disoriented Julian’s frontline, Vincent drew two concealed sidearms from his waistband, firing with lethal, terrifying speed. Three of Julian’s bodyguards dropped instantly, bullets piercing their skulls before they could raise their rifles.
“Kill him! Shoot him!” Julian screamed, stumbling backward toward the logging truck.
Automatic rifle fire erupted, chewing the asphalt to pieces. Vincent took cover behind the engine block of the logging truck, returning fire with surgical precision, buying us every precious second of life with his own flesh and blood.
I climbed frantically through the briars, thorns tearing at my coat, rain blinding my eyes, the brass key burning against my palm.
“Keep moving!” Matteo panted behind me, firing his submachine gun backward down the slope to suppress the advancing mercenaries. “Don't look back, Clara! Don't look back!”
A bullet tore through Matteo’s shoulder. He stumbled with a grunt of agony, collapsing against a pine tree, his blood staining the white snow that had begun to fall.
“Matteo!” I cried, turning back.
May you like
“Go!” Matteo roared, shoving me upward with his uninjured hand, his teeth bared in defiance as he chambered another magazine. “Get to Chicago! Protect Daniel’s child! GO!”
I turned and ran blindly into the freezing, dark wilderness, the screams of dying men and the thunder of gunfire fading slowly behind me into the howling mountain storm.
