Chapter 3 - The Night of Shadows
Pain was the only thing Elena knew for the next three hours.
Every strike from Marco’s men was calculated—brutal enough to break her spirit, but hidden beneath her clothing so no outsider would notice. Through every blow, Elena threw her body over the twin bassinets, taking every kick and hit to ensure not a single fingernail touched her daughters.
When the men finally left, laughing quietly as they walked down the hall, Elena lay bleeding on the nursery rug. Her ribs throbbed with agony, her lip was split, and her vision blurred with hot tears.
Above her, Clara and Sofia whimpered softly.
Elena dragged herself up inch by agonizing inch, clutching her fractured ribs. She looked at her baby girls.
"I won't let him destroy you," she sobbed silently, her blood dripping onto the floorboards. "I will die before I let you grow up in this house."
She knew she couldn't call the police; Marco owned the local precinct. She couldn't call her family; her parents had passed away years ago. There was only one person whose name was spoken in whispers—a man even Marco feared above all else.
Don Salvatore "The Reaper" Moretti.
Salvatore Moretti was the absolute head of the Chicago Outfit. A enigmatic, ruthless man in his late thirties who ruled the city with iron discipline. He lived in a fortified estate in Lake Forest and rarely dealt with low-level lieutenants like Marco. But Elena remembered something her late father had told her years ago: Salvatore’s father had owed her family a life-debt from the old country.
Using every ounce of remaining strength, Elena packed a small duffel bag with diapers, formula, and two pink blankets. She gathered both baby carriers in her bruised arms, bypassed the guards asleep in the garage, and slipped into her small sedan.
She turned the key in the ignition and drove out into the pouring rain, leaving the Romano estate behind forever.
The drive to Lake Forest felt like an eternity. By the time her car rolled up to the massive iron gates of the Moretti compound, shock and blood loss were making her head spin.
Two heavy armed guards approached her window with submachine guns drawn.
May you like
"State your business," one guarded demanded sternly.
Elena rolled down the window, her voice barely a thread. "My name is Elena Romano... daughter of Mateo Vance. Tell Don Salvatore... I have come to collect his father's debt."
