Chapter 9 - THE LAST MORETTI WARHappiness lasted twelve days.
Then someone kidnapped Marco.
Adrian received the video at 6:03 on Christmas Eve.
Marco sat tied to a metal chair.
Blood covered one side of his face.
Behind him stood Lucian’s attorney.
Victor Hale.
Adrian recognized him immediately.
Hale had represented the Moretti family for fifteen years.
He had attended Claire’s funeral.
He had hugged Adrian beside the grave.
Now he looked into the camera and said, “You should have left old business buried.”
The screen went black.
Sofia stood beside Adrian.
“Who is he?”
“Family lawyer.”
“Lucian’s?”
“Ours.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“He knew everything.”
Another message arrived.
MIDNIGHT. OLD SLAUGHTERHOUSE. BRING THE ROMANO RECORDING.
Sofia went pale.
“No.”
Adrian said nothing.
“No, Adrian.”
“They have Marco.”
“And if you go, they’ll have you.”
“He would come for me.”
“That doesn’t mean you walk into a trap.”
Emma was upstairs asleep.
Christmas presents waited beneath the tree.
Adrian stared at them.
He had never bought gifts for a child since Claire died.
Emma’s biggest box contained a blue bicycle.
He wondered if she would ever ride it.
Sofia grabbed his face.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You are not allowed to make yourself disposable anymore.”
“Sofia—”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“You don’t get to kiss me and make Emma love you and then decide your life is suddenly worth less than everyone else’s.”
Adrian stared.
She was crying.
“You matter.”
Three words.
Simple.
Terrifying.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“We don’t walk into the trap.”
Sofia exhaled.
“We build a better one.”
At 11:57 p.m., Adrian entered the abandoned slaughterhouse carrying a black case.
No visible weapon.
Hale stood beside Marco.
Four armed men surrounded them.
“You came.”
“You sound surprised.”
Hale smiled.
“Where’s the card?”
“In here.”
Adrian lifted the case.
“Release Marco.”
“After.”
“No.”
Hale laughed.
“You’re negotiating?”
“Yes.”
“Your position is poor.”
Adrian looked around.
Rusting hooks.
Broken machinery.
Catwalk overhead.
Dark windows.
“My position is excellent.”
Hale’s smile disappeared.
“Open the case.”
Adrian did.
Inside sat Daisy.
Hale stared.
“What the hell is that?”
“The reason Lucian lost.”
Marco almost smiled despite his injuries.
Hale’s face tightened.
“The card.”
“Gone.”
“What?”
“Federal evidence.”
Hale swore.
“Then why are you here?”
“To hear you explain why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you helped murder my family.”
Silence.
Hale’s expression changed.
“You think Lucian planned everything alone?”
“No.”
Adrian took one step closer.
“I think you were the other voice.”
Hale smiled.
“Smart.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian kept talking.
“You built the shell companies.”
“Yes.”
“You paid the camera technicians.”
“Yes.”
“You hired Rossi.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel?”
Hale shrugged.
“Unfortunate.”
Adrian’s jaw flexed.
“Say his name.”
“Why?”
“Because his daughter deserves to know the man who murdered him remembered his name.”
Hale studied Adrian.
“You’ve changed.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You used to understand necessity.”
“I used to confuse fear with respect.”
Hale smiled.
“Still preaching?”
“No.”
A red laser dot appeared on Hale’s chest.
His smile vanished.
Adrian continued.
“Just stalling.”
FBI floodlights blasted through the windows.
“FEDERAL AGENTS!”
Hale screamed.
Gunfire erupted.
Adrian dove behind a steel table.
Marco threw himself sideways with the chair.
Sloan’s tactical team entered from three directions.
One gunman fired toward Adrian.
Marco kicked his legs out.
Adrian disarmed him.
Hale ran.
Adrian followed.
They climbed a rusted staircase to the catwalk.
Below, agents swarmed the floor.
Hale reached the far end.
Nowhere left.
He pulled a pistol.
“Stay back.”
Adrian stopped.
“You won’t shoot.”
Hale laughed.
“I helped kill your wife.”
“Yes.”
“And your child.”
Adrian’s face twisted.
Hale raised the gun.
“You still think you know me?”
“No.”
Adrian looked past him.
“I know her.”
Hale frowned.
Agent Sloan stepped from behind a beam and pressed her weapon against his back.
“Drop it.”
Hale froze.
Adrian smiled faintly.
“He really should.”
Hale dropped the weapon.
Hours later, Marco sat in the ambulance while a medic stitched his eyebrow.
Adrian stood nearby.
Marco looked up.
“You brought a doll.”
“It worked.”
“Boss, respectfully, if this gets out—”
Adrian laughed.
Marco stared.
“You feeling okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Sofia arrived.
She ran directly toward Adrian.
He caught her.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Not mine.”
She slapped his chest.
“Ow.”
“That was for not answering your phone.”
“I was being shot at.”
“Still rude.”
Marco watched them.
Then shook his head.
“Stone is dead.”
Adrian looked at him.
“No.”
He wrapped an arm around Sofia.
“Stone learned manners.”
Christmas morning arrived late at the Moretti estate.
Emma came downstairs in red pajamas.
She stopped at the bottom.
Her eyes widened.
Presents covered half the room.
“Are those all mine?”
Adrian looked at the ridiculous number of boxes.
“No.”
Mrs. Delaney coughed.
Marco looked away.
Sofia raised an eyebrow.
Adrian surrendered.
“Most.”
Emma screamed.
Then immediately covered her mouth.
“Sorry.”
Adrian smiled.
“You can scream today.”
She screamed louder.
She opened the bicycle last.
Her hands covered her mouth.
“Blue.”
“Yes.”
“Daddy liked blue.”
Adrian’s chest tightened.
Sofia knelt beside her.
“He did.”
Emma looked at Adrian.
“Can you teach me?”
Adrian froze.
Claire’s first bicycle had been pink.
He had run behind her along the driveway.
Don’t let go, Daddy!
Never.
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
Outside, Emma wore three coats because Sofia insisted.
Adrian held the back of the bicycle.
“Pedal.”
“I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
She giggled.
“You’re silly.”
“Probably.”
“Don’t let go.”
Adrian’s throat tightened.
“Never.”
She pedaled.
Slowly.
Then faster.
He let go.
Emma rode ten feet.
Twenty.
Thirty.
She turned.
“You let go!”
Adrian’s heart stopped.
Then Emma laughed.
“I did it!”
Sofia stood beside him.
Tears filled her eyes.
Adrian whispered, “She did.”
Sofia slipped her hand into his.
Snow began falling.
Soft.
Quiet.
May you like
The same kind of snow that had fallen the night Adrian followed a three-year-old child through Cicero.
Except this time, he wasn’t standing in darkness.
