Chapter 9 - The Brother Who Lived
Dominic moved faster than Vincent expected.
He knocked Michael’s gun aside before it fired.
The shot struck the ceiling.
Stone dust rained down.
“Mike!” Dominic shouted. “What are you doing?”
Michael drove an elbow into his chest. “Surviving.”
Vincent pinned him against the wall.
“Where’s Sofia?”
Michael laughed in his face. “Still all about you, Vince.”
Dominic grabbed his brother’s coat. “They told me you were a hostage.”
“I was. At first.”
The answer destroyed something in Dominic’s expression.
Michael looked at him with contempt. “Then I learned Rocco had a better plan than spending his life pretending to be legitimate for people who still called us gangsters.”
Vincent shoved him harder. “Where is my family?”
“Greenhouse level. Old root cellar.”
“Security?”
“Six men, maybe seven.”
Dominic searched his brother’s pockets and found a key card.
Michael smiled. “You think that gets you in?”
“It gets us somewhere.”
“It gets you killed.”
Vincent leaned close. “You already helped steal three years from me. Don’t waste another second.”
Michael’s eyes flicked toward the pendant.
“That card is worthless.”
“We know.”
His smile disappeared.
Vincent caught it.
“So Rocco doesn’t know it’s bait.”
Michael said nothing.
Good.
Vincent handed Dominic the card. “Take your brother back to Grace.”
Dominic stared. “I’m going with you.”
“No. This is not punishment. I need someone I can predict between my son and a bullet.”
Dominic looked toward Michael.
Vincent added, “Right now, that’s you.”
For a second Dominic looked like he might argue.
Then he nodded.
Vincent took the right-hand passage alone.
The stone corridor climbed beneath the greenhouse. At the top, he found an iron door and used Michael’s key card.
Green light.
The lock clicked.
Vincent stepped into a warm concrete room filled with irrigation pipes.
No guards.
No Rocco.
On a chair in the center sat a small boy with dark curls and Sofia’s eyes.
Vincent stopped.
The boy stared at him.
“Are you my dad?” he asked.
Vincent’s throat closed.
Before he could answer, a red dot appeared on the boy’s chest.
May you like
Rocco’s voice came through a speaker overhead.
“Put down the gun, nephew.”
