Chapter 11 - The Shot
The bullet had missed Dante’s heart by inches.
Not by luck.
Julian had tackled the shooter from the balcony at the exact moment the trigger was pulled.
The shot tore through Dante’s shoulder.
He hit the floor.
Clara ran to him.
Sophia screamed, “Daddy!”
The word shattered whatever remained of the room’s cold control.
Isabella grabbed Sophia.
Dante forced himself up despite the blood.
“Let her go.”
Isabella pulled a small pistol from inside her coat.
She pressed it toward Sophia.
Clara froze.
Dante did too.
Julian wrestled with the rifleman above.
Luca’s men moved into position.
Nobody had a clean shot.
Isabella backed toward the service door.
“You chose Elena over us.”
Dante’s face twisted.
“There is no us.”
“You’re my son.”
“You stopped being my mother when you hurt my daughter.”
Isabella’s eyes flashed.
“I protected this family.”
“You murdered it.”
Sophia was crying openly now.
Clara looked at her.
“Sweetheart.”
Isabella snapped, “Quiet.”
Sophia flinched.
Clara continued.
“Look at me.”
Isabella pointed the gun toward Clara.
“Do not speak to her.”
Clara ignored her.
“Sophia.”
The child looked over.
“You know the chocolate heart?”
Sophia’s breathing slowed slightly.
“Remember?”
Tiny nod.
Clara placed her hand over her own heart.
“You’re not alone.”
Dante understood.
He shifted slightly.
Isabella saw.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Clara kept Sophia’s eyes on her.
“One step.”
Sophia frowned.
Clara barely moved her lips.
“One.”
Sophia understood.
She stomped backward onto Isabella’s foot.
Hard.
Isabella cried out.
Sophia dropped.
Dante moved.
Luca fired.
Isabella’s gun flew from her hand.
Clara lunged and pulled Sophia away.
Within seconds Isabella was on the floor.
Pinned.
Cuffed.
Dante staggered toward Sophia.
She ran into him.
He fell to his knees from the impact and pain.
He wrapped one arm around her.
“I’ve got you.”
Sophia buried her face against his chest.
“Daddy.”
“I’ve got you.”
Clara turned away as tears burned her eyes.
For three years Sophia had not said anything.
Now she could not stop saying the word.
Daddy.
Again.
Again.
Again.
As though every repetition repaired something.
Police arrived.
Not ordinary police.
Federal agents.
Thomas’s ledger had contained enough names to make local authorities unreliable.
Luca had quietly contacted a federal prosecutor through one of Elena’s old attorneys.
Isabella was taken into custody.
The rifleman too.
Pike agreed to testify in exchange for protection.
Julian did not ask for protection.
He simply sat in a hospital corridor later that night while a doctor removed the bullet from Dante’s shoulder.
Clara found him there.
“You saved him.”
Julian looked at the floor.
“Doesn’t erase anything.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
Clara sat beside him.
“Why did you really come back into Sophia’s life after Elena died?”
Julian was quiet.
“Guilt.”
“That all?”
“No.”
He looked through the hospital window.
“I was afraid Isabella would realize Sophia remembered.”
“So you stayed close.”
“Yes.”
“But Sophia thought you were watching her.”
“I was.”
“To protect her.”
“And to protect myself.”
He looked at Clara.
“Don’t make me better than I was.”
“I’m not.”
“I kept quiet because speaking would destroy me too.”
Clara nodded.
“That sounds true.”
Julian almost smiled.
“You’re very comforting.”
“So I’m told.”
He leaned back.
“I deserve prison.”
“Yes.”
“That was fast.”
“You asked.”
He laughed once.
Then his face became serious.
“If Sophia ever asks about me…”
Clara waited.
“Tell her I was sorry before I wanted forgiveness.”
“That part I can tell her.”
Dante emerged from surgery hours later.
He was alive.
Angry about the sling.
Angrier about being told to rest.
Sophia climbed into his hospital bed and fell asleep beside him.
Clara stood at the door.
Dante looked at her.
“Come in.”
“I should go home.”
“To the apartment Pike destroyed?”
“Fair point.”
“Stay.”
The word sounded more personal than necessary.
Clara pretended not to notice.
“I’m not exactly family.”
Dante looked at Sophia.
“She would disagree.”
Clara’s chest tightened.
She sat down.
For the first time in days, the room became quiet without feeling dangerous.
Then Luca entered.
He held an evidence bag.
Inside was an old cassette tape.
“Found it in Isabella’s coat.”
Dante frowned.
“What is it?”
“There’s a label.”
Luca turned it around.
MICHAEL — MERCY — ROOM 214.
Dante sat up despite the pain.
“My brother?”
“We checked the hospital archives.”
Luca’s expression was strange.
“Dante, Michael Vancini was never recorded as dead at Mercy.”
Dante stared.
“Then where was he transferred?”
Luca swallowed.
“We found the facility.”
“Where?”
“Upstate.”
Dante’s face changed.
Luca continued.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“The patient is still there.”
May you like
Dante stopped breathing.
His brother might still be alive.
