Chapter 2 - The Pendant That Should Have Been Buried With My FamilyThe first man came through the shattered window.
He raised his weapon.
I shot the gun from his hand.
My men opened fire around me.
The alley became chaos.
Lily screamed.
I grabbed her and pulled her beneath the steel workbench inside the repair shop.
“Stay here.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“You're bleeding.”
I looked down.
A bullet had grazed my shoulder.
“It's nothing.”
“You're lying.”
Even in the middle of a gunfight, she sounded annoyed.
I almost smiled.
Then another bullet struck the wall beside us.
I pulled my weapon.
“Close your eyes.”
She obeyed.
I stepped out.
Three men were advancing.
The first went down.
The second tried to flank me.
My guard Marco dropped him.
The third ran toward Lily.
I caught him before he reached the workbench.
He looked at me.
“Romano…”
“Who sent you?”
He laughed.
“You'll never find her.”
“Find who?”
He smiled through bloody teeth.
“Your sister.”
Then he bit down hard.
A capsule cracked.
His body went limp.
I stared at him.
My sister.
He had said my sister.
I looked toward Lily.
She was staring at me.
“Did he mean me?”
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
I took the pendant from her trembling fingers.
The silver was old.
The Romano crest was unmistakable.
Inside the pendant was the photograph.
My mother.
My baby sister.
And on the back, written in faded ink, were two words.
For Dante.
My hands trembled.
Nobody knew about this pendant.
Nobody except my mother.
She had made one for my sister.
I remembered it.
I had been six.
My sister had been barely one.
My mother used to hold the pendant while rocking her to sleep.
She had told me:
“When you're older, you'll protect her.”
I had promised.
Then our house burned.
I failed.
For thirty years, I had carried that failure.
Now an eight-year-old girl was wearing the pendant.
But something didn't make sense.
Lily had said her mother gave it to her.
Her mother couldn't be my sister.
Could she?
I turned toward Lily.
“What is your mother's name?”
“Maria.”
My heart stopped.
Maria.
My sister's name had been Maria.
I crouched in front of her.
“How old is your mother?”
“Thirty-one.”
The world tilted.
Maria would have been thirty-one.
“Where does she live?”
Lily hesitated.
“She told me never to tell strangers.”
I swallowed.
“I understand.”
Then she looked at me.
“But you're not a stranger.”
Those five words broke something inside me.
I ordered every man in my organization to protect the alley.
Then I took Lily home.
Not to my mansion.
To the safest property I owned.
The first thing I did was call my private doctor.
The second was ordering an investigation into Maria.
The third was something I hadn't done in thirty years.
I opened my father's old box.
Inside was the ring he had given me the night he died.
Beneath it was a photograph.
My mother.
My father.
Me.
And baby Maria.
I placed Lily's pendant beside it.
The two pieces matched perfectly.
The same silver.
The same engraving.
The same craftsman's mark.
Lily stared at the photograph.
“That's my grandma.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“My mother has the same picture.”
I couldn't breathe.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Stop looking for Maria.”
“Who are you?”
“You lost your family once.”
He paused.
“Don't make us teach you how to lose another.”
The call ended.
I looked at Lily.
Someone had known exactly where she was.
Someone knew about Maria.
Someone knew about me.
May you like
And they had just made the biggest mistake of their lives.
They had threatened the only family I had left.
Related Stories
