Chapter 9 - THE STORM’S REVELATION
As the storm raged outside,
Lorenzo’s fever broke.
He sat up in the bed Silas had provided,
his back against the wall.
“The voice on the phone,”
he said,
his voice returning to its usual authority.
“Sofia.”
“If she’s working with the rival families,”
“it means my brother is already dead.”
I sat at the table,
cleaning the small pistol I had used on Mark.
“She said she wanted the baby,”
I recalled.
“She said if I gave him to her,”
“she’d let me go.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“She wants him for the inheritance.”
“Without Leo,”
“the Rossi fortune passes to her husband’s line.”
“She was never Italy,”
“she was waiting for the right moment to strike.”
I looked at the baby,
who was playing with his toes in the crib Silas had fashioned from a laundry basket.
“She’s not going to stop,”
I said.
“She has men,
she has money.”
“And she has your brother’s name.”
Lorenzo looked at me,
a dark fire burning in his eyes.
“She doesn't have me,”
he said.
“And she doesn't have you.”
He looked at Silas,
who was cleaning his shotgun at the counter.
“Silas,”
Lorenzo said.
“Do you have a phone?”
“Lines are down,”
Silas replied.
“But I have a radio in the cellar.”
“It’s old,
but it reaches the mainland.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Use it.”
“Tell Marco I’m alive.”
“Tell him to bring the wolves to the lake.”
Silas looked at him,
recognizing the name.
“Marco?”
he asked.
“The Rossi enforcer?”
“Yes,”
Lorenzo said.
“And tell him to bring a clean dress for the lady.”
I looked at my blood-stained uniform,
the fabric stiff and ruined.
“I don’t want a dress,”
I said.
“I want a gun.”
Lorenzo looked at me,
a small,
grim smile touching his lips.
“You’ll have both.”
The morning sun broke through the clouds,
shining on the wet,
glistening world.
We heard the sound of helicopters in the distance,
the thrum of the engines getting louder.
“They’re here,”
Lorenzo said,
standing up with a grunt of pain.
We walked out onto the dock,
watching the black helicopters descend.
Men in tactical gear spilled out,
forming a perimeter around the cabin.
Marco was the first to reach us,
his face a mask of relief.
“Mr. Rossi,”
he said,
bowing his head.
“We thought you were lost.”
“Not lost,”
Lorenzo said,
placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Just found.”
He looked at the mansion across the lake,
which was still smoldering in the distance.
“Now,”
he said,
May you like
his voice a promise of death.
“Let’s go find my sister-in-law.”
