Chapter 7 - THE TRAIN NORTHDante mobilized before anyone could stop him.
The freight train carrying Elena was already north of the city, moving through industrial corridors toward Wisconsin.
Stopping it publicly would attract police, media, and federal attention.
Sal knew that.
He had chosen his escape route carefully.
“He wants us to follow,” Vivienne said.
Dante checked his weapon.
“Good.”
“That wasn’t approval.”
“I know.”
Isabella, still recovering, called from her hospital room.
“Don’t chase the train directly.”
Dante put her on speaker.
“Why?”
“Because Sal doesn’t care about Elena anymore.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“She’s my brother’s wife.”
“Exactly. She is bait.”
Vivienne leaned over a map.
“Then what does he want?”
Isabella answered.
“Marco.”
The room went silent.
Dante understood.
“If Marco knows Elena is alive—”
“He comes out.”
Vincent said, “How does Sal know Marco will hear?”
“He already sent the information.”
Isabella sounded tired.
“Sal has been trying to flush Marco out for months.”
Dante looked at the train route.
“Where would Marco intercept?”
Isabella did not answer.
“Mom.”
“Dante—”
“Where?”
A pause.
“Racine.”
Dante ended the call.
Everett looked at him.
“She just betrayed Marco’s location.”
“No.”
Vivienne studied the map.
“She gave us where she expects him to move.”
Dante looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because your mother still doesn’t trust phones.”
They drove north.
Rain followed them.
Two Moretti vehicles.
Two Cross vehicles.
An alliance forged not by marriage, but by mutual hatred of Sal.
The train slowed near an abandoned distribution yard outside Racine shortly after midnight.
Dante watched from a hill.
A black truck approached the tracks.
Three men emerged.
Then a fourth.
Marco.
Dante forgot the binoculars were in his hands.
His brother was alive.
Thinner.
Bearded.
A scar crossed his neck.
But alive.
Dante had imagined this moment a hundred times since seeing the video.
Anger.
Relief.
Violence.
Maybe all three.
Instead, he felt only disbelief.
Marco moved toward the freight car.
The door opened.
Elena was pushed out.
Her hands were bound.
She stumbled.
Marco stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
Sal appeared behind her.
“Hello, Marco.”
Dante’s blood ran cold.
Vivienne whispered, “Too easy.”
Dante looked at her.
“What?”
“Sal wants everyone together.”
Then she saw it.
Small red lights beneath the railcar.
“Bomb.”
Dante grabbed the radio.
“Marco! Move!”
Too late.
An explosion ripped through the yard.
The freight car lifted from the rails.
Metal screamed.
Dante’s vehicle shook.
Fire rolled into the sky.
He ran.
Vivienne shouted behind him.
“Dante!”
He ignored her.
He found Elena twenty yards from the train.
Alive.
Marco was shielding her.
Dante stopped.
Marco looked up.
For six months, Dante had mourned him.
Now they stared at each other through smoke.
“Brother.”
Marco’s face broke.
“Dante.”
They embraced.
Once.
Hard.
Then gunfire erupted.
Sal’s men appeared from the warehouses.
The brothers moved together automatically.
Dante returned fire.
Marco dragged Elena behind a concrete barrier.
Vivienne reached them.
“Elena!”
Elena looked weak.
“She needs a doctor,” Marco said.
“You found one.”
Vivienne examined her.
Elena stared at her.
“You’re Cross.”
“Yes.”
“Marco said you might come.”
Dante looked at his brother.
“You knew her?”
“Not personally.”
Bullets struck the barrier.
Marco fired back.
Dante said, “We’re finishing this conversation later.”
“If we live.”
“We’re living.”
Marco almost smiled.
Then a voice boomed across the yard.
“Marco!”
Sal.
He stood on the roof of a loading office.
A rifle rested against Elena’s former captor’s shoulder beside him.
“Come out or I burn the second car.”
Marco froze.
“What second car?”
Sal smiled.
Then lights appeared on a siding.
A refrigerated freight car.
Through a narrow window, several figures could be seen.
Household employees.
Moretti guards.
And Clara Bell.
Dante stared.
Sal had kidnapped them.
Clara pressed both hands against the glass.
Sal shouted, “There are fourteen people inside.”
Marco yelled, “What do you want?”
“You.”
Dante stepped forward.
“No.”
Sal laughed.
“Still protecting your brother?”
Dante raised his weapon.
Sal stood behind steel cover.
“You can’t hit me.”
“No.”
Dante glanced at Vincent.
“But he can.”
Vincent understood.
He fired at a valve above Sal.
Steam burst across the roof.
Sal disappeared.
Cross men moved.
Moretti men advanced.
Marco ran toward the refrigerated car.
Dante followed.
They reached the doors.
Locked.
Vivienne shouted, “Stand back!”
She grabbed a metal bar and helped pry the latch.
Inside, people were collapsing from cold and lack of oxygen.
Clara fell into Marco’s arms.
“Marco.”
He stared at her.
“You weren’t supposed to hurt Leo.”
“I know.”
“You nearly killed my son.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I know.”
Marco’s face twisted.
Dante expected him to push her away.
Instead, Marco handed her to a guard.
“Get everyone out.”
Clara looked shocked.
Marco said, “We decide guilt after people breathe.”
Dante looked at his brother.
That sentence sounded like their mother.
Maybe some things survived families.
A gunshot struck nearby.
Sal was escaping across the rail yard.
Dante chased him.
This time Marco followed.
The brothers cornered Sal near the river.
Sal turned with a pistol.
“Look at you.”
He smiled.
“The dead brother and the living brother.”
Marco raised his weapon.
“You killed Elena’s driver.”
“Yes.”
“You held my wife for six months.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to kill my son.”
Sal’s smile faded.
“That was business.”
Marco fired.
The bullet struck the ground beside Sal’s foot.
Dante looked at him.
“You missed.”
“No.”
Marco’s voice shook.
“I want him alive.”
Sal laughed.
“You think prison matters to me?”
“No.”
Marco lowered the gun.
“But testimony does.”
Sal’s expression changed.
Dante understood.
Marco had evidence.
Sal stepped backward toward the river.
“You think your family survives this?”
Dante said, “It already did.”
Sal looked between the brothers.
“You hate each other.”
Marco almost smiled.
“Families can do two things at once.”
Sal raised his gun.
Dante fired first.
The bullet struck Sal’s hand.
His weapon fell.
Vincent and Cross guards rushed in.
Sal was restrained.
For the first time in fifteen years, Dante saw fear on his old adviser’s face.
Not fear of death.
Fear of losing control.
Dante crouched.
“You taught me patience.”
Sal spat blood.
“I taught you everything.”
“No.”
Dante looked toward Vivienne.
Then Marco.
Then Elena being carried to safety.
“You taught me what not to become.”
Sal smiled weakly.
“You still think this ends with me?”
Dante’s expression changed.
Sal leaned closer.
“There’s one secret Marco never told you.”
Dante looked at his brother.
May you like
Marco’s face went pale.
Sal whispered, “Ask him who ordered your father’s death.”
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