Chapter 7 - The Reckoning in the Rain
I walked out from behind the kitchen island, the MP5 held steady at my waist, the suppressed barrel smoking softly in the cool night air blowing through the shattered windows.
Carlo stared at me.
He looked at my tactical boots.
He looked at my Kevlar vest.
He looked at the dark blood smeared across my forehead from where the wooden splinters had cut my skin.
"You..." Carlo stammered, his legendary composure completely shattered. "You were supposed to be in Switzerland."
"The service was terrible," I said, walking up to him and pulling a combat knife from my tactical belt. With two quick, effortless slashes, I cut the heavy zip ties binding his wrists and ankles.
Carlo instantly pushed himself up from the chair, grabbing my face with his bruised, bloody hands, pulling my lips to his with a ferocity that took my breath away. He kissed me like a dying man drinking water, his entire body trembling against mine.
"You crazy, magnificent woman," he groaned against my mouth, resting his forehead against mine. "I told you to leave."
"You lied to me," I whispered, my eyes burning with tears I refused to let fall. "You called me a liability."
"I had to make them believe it, Bianca," he choked out, his thumb gently wiping the blood from my forehead. "If they knew what you meant to me, they would have used you to strip everything I built."
"I know," I said softly. "That's why I stole your ledgers from Cicero."
Carlo froze, blinking at me. "You... you went to Cicero?"
"Sofia uploaded your blackmail files to a dead-man's switch," I informed him smoothly. "If Falcone isn't dead or in federal custody by 2:45 AM, the entire Chicago judiciary goes down with you."
Carlo stared at me for three long seconds, then let out a rich, booming laugh that echoed off the high ceilings of our ruined home. "God, I married the right woman."
A pathetic whimpering sound came from the corner near the shattered balcony doors.
We both turned.
My brother Matteo was crawling on his knees through the broken glass, trying to reach the private service exit, his hands bleeding, his designer suit torn to shreds.
Carlo's laughter died instantly. His face transformed back into the terrifying, ice-cold mask of the Chicago syndicate boss. He reached down to my belt, pulled Frank’s P226 from my holster, and racked the slide with a heavy, ominous sound.
"Carlo, wait," I said, catching his arm.
Carlo looked at me, his eyes dark with murderous intent. "He sold us out, Bianca. He put Falcone in our home. He almost got you killed under that bridge."
"I know," I said, turning to look at my trembling brother. "Which is why he belongs to me."
I walked over to Matteo, stepping on his hand as he reached for the door handle. He cried out in pain, looking up at me with tear-filled, terrified eyes.
"Ellie..." Matteo sobbed, using his childhood nickname for me. "Please... please, Ellie! Falcone threatened to kill me! He said if I didn't give him the codes, he’d chop me into pieces! I had no choice!"
"You always had a choice, Matteo," I said, looking down at him with a heart that had finally turned entirely to stone. "Carlo gave you respect. He gave you a family. And you sold us for five million dollars because you were too pathetic to build something of your own."
I looked over my shoulder at Carlo. "Call the capos at the South Side docks. Tell them the threat is neutralized. Then tell them to come pick up the trash."
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Matteo gasped. "Ellie, no! Don't leave me with the capos! They'll kill me!"
"They won't kill you, Matteo," I whispered, leaning down close to his ear so only he could hear. "They're going to put you on a cargo boat to a labor dock in South America. You're going to work off every single dollar of that five million you took from Falcone. And if you ever speak my name again, I'll send them the rest of your records."
