Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Hotel Room
The hotel evacuation happened in six minutes.
Alessandro personally moved me through the service corridor.
“Stay behind me.”
“I know.”
“You're shaking.”
“So are you.”
He looked at me.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
He almost smiled.
Then gunfire erupted upstairs.
We ran.
A security door slammed.
Victor shouted.
“Left!”
We turned.
A man appeared.
Alessandro shot him.
Another rushed from behind.
I screamed.
Alessandro pulled me down.
Bullets ripped through the wall.
We escaped into a storage room.
There were no windows.
Only shelves.
I was breathing too fast.
Alessandro grabbed my shoulders.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“Breathe.”
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can.”
I inhaled.
He stayed close.
“Again.”
I did.
The panic slowed.
He whispered, “Good.”
“You sound like a doctor.”
“My father was a doctor before he became what he became.”
I stared.
“You never told me.”
“I didn't have much of a childhood.”
He sat on the floor beside me.
For several seconds, there was only our breathing.
Then he said, “When I was ten, my mother left.”
“Why?”
“She couldn't live with the violence.”
“What happened?”
“My father let her go.”
“You're saying he was capable of that?”
“He loved her.”
That surprised me.
“Then why?”
“Because he knew he couldn't give her a normal life.”
Alessandro looked down.
“I promised myself I'd never make someone I love choose between me and safety.”
I stared at him.
“Then why are you doing it to me?”
His eyes met mine.
“Because you weren't supposed to become someone I love.”
My heart stopped.
The storage room went silent.
Then Victor's voice came through the radio.
“Clear.”
We were safe.
But I couldn't stop thinking about his words.
That night, after we returned home, I couldn't sleep.
I found Alessandro in the library.
He was sitting alone with a glass of water.
“You shouldn't drink alcohol after getting shot.”
He looked at me.
“It isn't alcohol.”
I sat across from him.
“Why did you say that?”
“Say what?”
“That you love me.”
He looked away.
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “I shouldn't have.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because it makes you a target.”
“You already made me a target.”
“I know.”
“Then stop deciding what's best for me.”
He stood.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
His voice broke.
“I love you.”
I stared.
He continued.
“And I'm terrified.”
The honesty hit harder than any threat.
“You're afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Losing you.”
I slowly stood.
“I am afraid too.”
He stepped closer.
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Of falling for a man who can disappear into darkness and come back covered in blood.”
He lowered his head.
“I don't want that life.”
“Then change it.”
His eyes met mine.
“I've tried.”
“Try harder.”
He smiled faintly.
“You really are the only person in this city who talks to me like that.”
“Maybe you need it.”
He reached for my hand.
This time, I didn't pull away.
We stood there until morning.
Then my mother entered.
She took one look at us.
“Oh.”
I pulled my hand away.
“Mom.”
She smiled.
“I've never seen you look at anyone like that.”
“It's complicated.”
“Love usually is.”
She sat beside us.
Then her expression changed.
“I remember where the ledger is.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“Where?”
My mother looked at me.
“I hid it where nobody would search.”
“Where?”
“In Rosie's Diner.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“The old basement.”
I stared.
“What did you hide there?”
“My original records.”
“But I worked there for years.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't I find them?”
“Because they're behind the wall.”
Alessandro stood.
“Then we go tonight.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Lena.”
“If Salvatore is watching, he'll follow.”
“That's the point.”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
We turned.
She looked frightened.
“I remember something else.”
“What?”
“The ledger isn't the danger.”
“What is?”
She whispered one name.
“Elias Romano.”
Alessandro froze.
“My grandfather.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Your uncle's story was a lie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Elias wasn't your father's enemy.”
“He was.”
“No.”
She looked at Alessandro.
“He was the man who created all of this.”
Silence.
Alessandro's face went pale.
“My grandfather died twenty years ago.”
“People like him don't die without leaving something behind.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She looked at Alessandro.
“An heir.”
The library door suddenly slammed.
Victor rushed in.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Salvatore sent a message.”
“What does it say?”
Victor held out a phone.
One sentence.
YOUR GRANDFATHER LEFT YOU A CHOICE.
May you like
ALIVE FAMILY OR DEAD FAMILY.
And beneath it was a photograph of my mother.
