Chapter 7 - THE FINAL SHOWDOWN IN THE WING
The silenced pistol didn't waver. Marco Rossi’s eyes burned with a mixture of cocaine-fueled desperation and pure, unadulterated vengeance.
"Step aside, Gino," Marco hissed, his finger tightening slightly on the trigger. "I’m here for the widow and her little bastard. And if you get in the way, your thirty years of loyal service end right here on this cheap carpet."
Gino didn't flinch. Despite his age, the old steward stood tall, shielding little Toby completely with his own body. He had buried friends in these halls; he had cleaned up the messes of men far worse than Marco Rossi. He wasn't about to let a cornered rat touch Nadia or the child.
"You're too late, Marco," Gino said, his voice eerily calm. "The boss already knows you're here. The whole estate is locked down."
"Liar!" Marco snarled, stepping forward to shove Gino aside.
At that exact second, Toby—operating on pure, feral instinct—ducked under Gino’s arm, darted forward, and slammed a heavy brass service cart directly into the back of Marco’s knees.
CRASH!
Marco stumbled forward with a violent curse, his shot flying wild and embedding itself harmlessly into the wooden wall.
"Run, Toby! Run!" Gino yelled, lunging forward to grab Marco’s gun-arm, using every ounce of his remaining strength to wrestle the weapon away.
Marco roared in fury, throwing the old man off with brutal force. Gino hit the floor hard, a sharp groan escaping his lips as his head clipped the corner of the wooden dresser.
Marco raised the pistol, aiming down at Gino’s chest, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "Time to die, old man."
BANG.
A single, deafening gunshot echoed through the service wing.
Marco froze. The pistol slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the floor. A red blossom bloomed rapidly across the chest of his tailored suit, and his eyes rolled back before he collapsed face-first onto the linoleum, motionless.
Behind him, standing at the end of the hallway with wisps of smoke curling from the barrel of his Sig Sauer, was Lucas Falcone.
His face was a mask of cold, unmitigated fury. He didn't look like a businessman, or an executive, or a politician. He looked like the grim reaper.
Behind Lucas, Nadia rushed into the hallway, still draped in his jacket, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. When she saw Gino lying on the floor, she let out a sharp cry and ran forward, dropping to her knees beside him.
"Gino! Gino, look at me!" she cried, pressing her hands against his shoulder.
Gino groaned, blinking open his eyes with a weak smile. "I'm... I'm too old for this nonsense, Ms. Nadia... tell the boss to give me a raise."
Nadia let out a choked, watery laugh, tears streaming down her face as she hugged the old man tightly.
Lucas walked slowly down the hall, stepping casually over Marco Rossi’s corpse. He didn't look at the dead man. His eyes were entirely fixed on little Toby, who was shaking violently in the corner, clutching his stuffed bear.
Without a word, Lucas walked over, knelt down on one knee in front of the little boy, and placed a heavy, reassuring hand on his small shoulder.
May you like
"You did good, kid," Lucas said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You saved your friends. In this house, that makes you family. No one will ever hurt you here again."
Toby sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve, and for the first time all night, a small, brave smile appeared on his face. He nodded.
