Chapter 5 - The Night the Docks Burned
Screams echoed through the dark ballroom as glass shattered and heavy oak doors were thrown open.
In the pitch blackness, Chloe felt a powerful, heavy arm wrap around her waist, ripping her sideways just as a deafening THUMP rang out, and a high-caliber bullet shattered the marble wall right where her head had been a second prior.
"Down!" Luciano’s voice roared in her ear.
He tackled her to the floor behind a heavy oak serving bar, shielding her entire body with his own. Automatic gunfire erupted across the upper balcony as Costa guards returned fire into the darkness. Red tracer rounds sliced through the air like lethal laser beams, illuminating the horror in brief, terrifying flashes.
"Are you hit?" Luciano demanded, his hands rapidly scanning her arms, back, and shoulders in the dark. His breath was ragged, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
"I'm okay! I'm fine!" Chloe gasped, clinging tightly to his lapels. "Luciano, they're trying to kill you!"
"They tried," Luciano growled, pulling a sleek, matte-black Glock from his shoulder holster. "Hart! Get the tactical van to the south entrance now!"
"Moving!" Hart’s voice radioed back over Luciano’s earpiece through the static.
Luciano looked down at Chloe in the dark, his face illuminated only by the muzzle flashes echoing from the staircase. "Stay low. Do not let go of my belt. If I move, you move. Understood?"
"Understood!" she cried.
Luciano stood up slightly, fired four rapid shots toward the balcony—sending a Romano shooter crashing through the glass railing onto the floor below—and grabbed Chloe by the wrist, hauling her through the service kitchen as security guards formed an iron wall of gunfire behind them.
They burst out into the rain-slicked alleyway behind the hotel. The cold rain smashed into Chloe's face, soaking her velvet gown instantly. A heavy armored SUV slammed its brakes at the end of the alley, tires screeching against the wet pavement.
"Get in!" Luciano yelled, shoving her into the reinforced back seat before diving in after her.
The heavy bulletproof doors slammed shut, cutting off the sound of gunfire outside as the SUV accelerated violently forward, throwing them back into the leather seats.
Chloe collapsed against the bench, panting heavily, her heart hammering so hard she felt dizzy. Rain poured down the blacked-out windows. She looked at Luciano. He was leaning back against the seat, ejecting his empty gun magazine and slapping a fresh one into place with a crisp, terrifying precision.
"They breached neutral ground," Luciano said, his voice terrifyingly calm—a quiet, cold fury that was far scarier than any shouting match. "Eduardo Romano has lost his mind."
"He was desperate," Chloe whispered, wringing her wet hands. "Celeste humiliated him. You humiliated her. They had to act."
Luciano looked at her, his dark eyes glowing in the faint dashboard light. He reached out and cupped her wet cheek, his thumb softly wiping away a streak of rain and mascara. "You didn't flinch back there. When the lights went out, you didn't scream."
"I was too terrified to scream," she admitted, leaning into his warm touch despite herself. "Luciano... what happens now? Is this war?"
"No," Luciano said, his fingers lingering on her skin, sending a strange, warm shiver straight down her spine. "A war is fought between equals. This is an extermination."
His phone buzzed violently. Luciano answered it, placing it on speaker.
"Don Luciano," his chief strategist barked over the line. "Romano’s men have struck the northern shipping yards. They set fire to Warehouse 4 and cut the power lines to our freight terminals. Two of our capos are pinned down at the docks."
Luciano didn't hesitate. "Deploy the second team from the armory. Block the harbor bridges. Tell Don Moretti that if he wants a twenty percent share of the Boston freight lines, he needs to hit Romano's union halls in twenty minutes."
"Understood, Don Luciano!"
Luciano hung up and looked out the window as the SUV sped through the dark, rain-soaked city toward the docks.
"You're going there?" Chloe asked, horror creeping into her voice. "To the harbor?"
"I have to," Luciano said firmly. "If a don doesn't stand in the mud with his men when his property burns, he loses his crown by morning. I am dropping you off at the safehouse in West Ridge."
"No," Chloe said sharply.
Luciano stopped, looking at her in shock. "What did you say?"
"I said no," Chloe repeated, her eyes blazing with a sudden, fierce determination. She grabbed his jacket sleeve. "If Celeste Romano sees me hidden away in a safehouse, she knows she got to you. She knows I'm your weak spot! If you are going to the docks to show your men you aren't afraid... I am going with you."
"Absolute not!" Luciano snapped, his voice rising in anger. "It is a warzone, Chloe! You could be killed!"
"I am Mrs. Costa!" she fired back, throwing his own words back in his face with unbelievable force. "You put this diamond on my hand! You told the entire council that I carry the blood of Sicilian kings! If the queen hides in a basement while the empire burns, your men won't respect you, and your enemies will laugh at us! Take me with you, Luciano. Show them we aren't hiding."
Luciano stared at her, his breath catching in his chest. For five seconds, the car was completely silent except for the roar of the engine and the beating of the rain against the roof.
He looked at her wet dress, her wild hair, the sparkling diamond on her finger, and the unyielding, fiery iron in her eyes.
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A slow, dangerous, deeply intoxicated smile spread across Luciano Costa’s face—the first genuine smile she had ever seen him give.
"God help me," he whispered, reaching behind his seat and pulling out a small, lightweight concealed Kevlar vest and a silver-plated snub-nosed revolver. He handed them to her. "Put the vest under your dress. Keep the gun in your clutch. If anyone comes near you without my permission... aim for the chest."
