Chapter 7 - The Reckoning
The loud crack of the gun echoed through the underground cellar, followed by the heavy, lifeless thud of Mark’s body hitting the shattered glass on the floor.
Silence returned to the wine cellar, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the dripping of red wine from the broken bottles.
Luca stood there for a second, his body trembling slightly with adrenaline. He dropped his spent weapon, wiped a smear of blood from his cheek, and turned toward me.
I sat on the floor beside Marco, my hands covered in wine and blood, staring up at the man I had worked for four years.
For the first time, I saw the true face of Luca Moretti—not the polished billionaire real estate mogul in the pristine suit, but the dangerous king who ruled the dark streets of Manhattan.
He took a step toward me, his dark eyes filled with fear—not fear of the hitmen, but fear of what I saw when I looked at him.
"Emma..." he whispered, stopping a few feet away, his hands held out open. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
I looked at Mark’s body, then down at Marco, who was groaning in pain, clutching his bleeding shoulder.
I didn't scream. I didn't run.
Instead, I tore a thick strip of silk from the hem of my five-thousand-dollar emerald gown, leaned over Marco, and began tying a tight tourniquet around his shoulder wound to stop the bleeding.
"Help me lift him into the safe room, Luca," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the madness around us. "He's bleeding out."
Luca blinked, stunned for a fraction of a second, before rushing forward to scoop Marco up in his powerful arms, carrying him inside the safe room and placing him gently on the medical cot.
I followed them inside, grabbing a trauma kit off the wall, popping open a bottle of antiseptic.
"You're not afraid of me?" Luca asked quietly, stepping up beside me as I worked on Marco’s shoulder.
"I know who you are, Luca," I said, applying pressure to the wound with a gauze pad. "I've known for four years. Mark was going to kill us both. You did what you had to do."
Luca stared at me, an expression of profound, tender awe washing over his face. He reached out, taking my blood-stained hand in his, squeezing it tightly.
"The perimeter is secure," Luca said, pulling out a secondary satellite radio. "My secondary tactical unit just arrived. Julian’s men have been eliminated or captured. But Julian is currently at the Bellandi estate in Brooklyn, trying to finalize the fake emergency takeover documents before morning."
"Then we go to Brooklyn," I said, standing up, my emerald dress torn, stained, but my jaw set like iron.
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Luca looked at me, a sharp, dangerous smile slowly spreading across his lips. "You want to come with me to a mafia stronghold at two in the morning?"
"I am your Senior Executive Vice President of Operations, Mr. Moretti," I said, pulling my ruined dress up and tying it securely around my waist so I could move freely. "And we have a company to protect."
