Chapter 5 - The Price of a Child
Carlo gave us four hours.
Bring Matteo to the abandoned Romano estate.
Come without an army.
Elena lived.
Refuse, and my mother died.
Adrian's answer was immediate.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“He has my mother.”
“And he wants our son.”
“We have to do something.”
“We will.”
“What?”
“Kill him.”
“Before or after he kills Mom?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
I hated fighting with him.
I hated Carlo more.
“We're not taking Matteo,” Adrian said.
“I know.”
He stopped.
“You agree?”
“Of course I agree. I'm desperate, not insane.”
I began pacing.
“There has to be another reason he chose the Romano estate.”
“Symbolism.”
“No.”
I knew that house.
At least, I knew what remained of it.
My childhood home had burned during the massacre. The property stood abandoned for years.
Then I remembered.
“The chapel.”
“What?”
“There's a family chapel behind the estate.”
Adrian frowned.
“It's underground.”
“Another tunnel?”
“Yes.”
“Why does every Romano building have secret tunnels?”
“My ancestors had trust issues.”
“For once, I approve.”
We formed a plan.
It was dangerous.
Adrian hated it.
That was partly why I knew it might work.
Carlo expected a frightened mother.
So I would give him one.
At midnight, Adrian and I arrived at the ruined estate.
I carried a wrapped bundle.
From a distance, it looked like Matteo.
It wasn't.
Marco's team entered through the chapel tunnel.
Carlo had twenty men.
Victor Salvi was with him.
Seeing Victor for the first time awakened a memory I had buried.
A man shouting.
My father bleeding.
My mother dragging me through smoke.
A gold watch on Victor's wrist.
He was wearing the same watch.
Older.
Same arrogance.
“Well,” Victor said. “Gabriel's little princess.”
Adrian's hand tightened on his wheelchair.
“Where's Elena?”
Carlo smiled.
“Always impatient.”
He looked older than Adrian, silver-haired and elegant.
Nothing about him looked monstrous.
Perhaps monsters rarely did.
My mother was brought forward.
Her hands were tied.
She looked weak.
Alive.
“Melissa,” she whispered.
I nearly ran toward her.
Victor raised a gun.
I stopped.
“The child,” Carlo said.
I held the bundle tighter.
“You let her go first.”
Carlo laughed.
“You're negotiating?”
“I inherited it.”
Victor's smile disappeared.
“You inherited nothing.”
“My father's blood.”
“Blood doesn't make a king.”
“No. Loyalty does. That's why you were never one.”
His face hardened.
Good.
Angry men made mistakes.
Carlo looked at Adrian.
“You understand why this had to happen.”
“No.”
“You were never supposed to survive the attack.”
Adrian stared.
“Which one?”
Carlo smiled.
“The first.”
Silence.
My breath caught.
Carlo had helped arrange the massacre that nearly killed Adrian at fourteen.
Then seven years later—
“You had me shot,” Adrian said.
Carlo shrugged.
“You were becoming difficult.”
The injury that put Adrian in a wheelchair.
His own uncle had ordered it.
Adrian's face revealed nothing.
But I knew him now.
I saw the pain.
Carlo continued.
“You survived again. You're remarkably inconvenient.”
“Runs in the family.”
“Your father was weak. Gabriel Romano was worse. They believed alliances mattered.”
“And you?”
“I believe power matters.”
He pointed toward my bundle.
“That child gives me everything.”
“No,” I said.
“He gives you nothing.”
Victor raised his weapon.
“Give us the baby.”
I looked at Mom.
Then Adrian.
He nodded once.
I stepped forward.
Carlo reached for the bundle.
I released it.
He pulled the blanket aside.
A recording device stared back at him.
His face changed.
Adrian smiled.
“Smile, Uncle.”
Gunfire exploded outside.
Marco's men entered through the tunnels.
Chaos followed.
I dropped.
Adrian fired.
Mom threw herself sideways.
Victor grabbed her.
I saw his gun rise.
Everything slowed.
I ran.
He fired.
The bullet missed me.
I struck his wrist.
His gun fell.
Victor stared at me in shock.
“You.”
I hit him again.
My mother had trained me for this moment without ever admitting it.
Not revenge.
Survival.
Victor grabbed my throat.
“You should've died with your father.”
A gunshot echoed.
Victor froze.
Then fell.
My mother stood behind him holding his gun.
Her hands shook.
“No,” she whispered. “She shouldn't have.”
Victor Salvi died on the floor of the house he had helped destroy.
Across the room, Carlo fled.
Adrian pursued him.
I followed.
They reached the courtyard.
Carlo turned with a gun.
“You really think she loves you?” he shouted at Adrian. “You're the reason her father died.”
Adrian stopped.
Carlo smiled.
“Gabriel went back because of you.”
I saw Adrian absorb the words.
“You were a child,” I said.
Carlo ignored me.
“If Gabriel hadn't carried you out, he would've escaped.”
“Shut up,” I said.
“He traded his life for yours.”
Adrian lowered his gun slightly.
Exactly what Carlo wanted.
Carlo fired.
I screamed.
Adrian jerked backward.
Then Marco fired.
Carlo fell.
I ran to Adrian.
Blood covered his shirt.
“No. No, no.”
“Melissa.”
“Don't talk.”
“I'm fine.”
“You've been shot!”
“Shoulder.”
“You're bleeding.”
“I've done this before.”
“This is not the time to brag.”
He smiled weakly.
I pressed my hands against the wound.
“You can't die.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Adrian.”
His eyes found mine.
“I love you.”
He reached up and touched my face.
“I know.”
I started crying.
“That was a terrible response.”
His smile grew.
“I love you too.”
Behind us, sirens approached.
Carlo was alive.
Barely.
For the first time in decades, he would not be protected by secrets.
Adrian's recording had captured everything.
The confession.
The murders.
The conspiracy.
The plan to abduct Matteo.
May you like
Carlo Moretti had spent his life believing power meant never answering for anything.
By sunrise, he was answering to everyone.
