Chapter 6 - The Turn of the Tide"End it, Vance," Luca growled through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as blood pooled on the marble beneath his knees. "Kill me and take the seat. Let's see how long your captains follow a coward who shoots kneeling men."
Vance’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, irritation flashing across his weathered face. "Brave words from a dying man. Let’s see how brave your little flower is when I—"
Before Moretti could finish his sentence, I lunged forward, grabbing the heavy brass statue off the console table with both hands and hurling it with all my might directly over the balcony railing toward the men gathered below.
CRASH!
The heavy brass object smashed into the stone floor right in the center of the henchmen, shattering a ceramic vase and sending shards flying everywhere, momentarily startling the guards and throwing their aim off.
"Now, Luca!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
In that split second of distraction, Luca moved with explosive, supernatural speed.
Instead of playing the victim, he slammed his elbow backward into Moretti’s ribs with bone-crunching force, twisted out of the older man's grip, and swept Moretti’s legs out from under him.
As Moretti crashed hard onto the marble floor, Luca lunged forward, wrenching the silver revolver from his hand and rolling over to press the barrel directly between Moretti’s wide, terrified eyes.
The remaining henchmen raised their rifles, shouting curses, but Marcus and three of Luca's loyal guards suddenly burst from the shadow of the lower hallway doors, their assault rifles locked and loaded.
"Drop your weapons! Drop them right now or I blow his head off!" Luca roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling with the terrifying authority of an executioner.
The henchmen hesitated, looking down at their fallen boss, then at Marcus’s overwhelming firepower. One by one, weapons clattered to the marble floor.
"Hands behind your heads! On the ground, now!" Marcus barked, moving forward to secure the prisoners.
The foyer fell into a tense, heavy silence, broken only by Luca’s heavy, ragged breathing as he knelt over Vance Moretti, the gun still pressed firmly against the older man's forehead.
"You lost, Vance," Luca whispered, his voice dangerously low. "Your empire died thirty years ago. You just didn't have the decency to lie down."
Moretti glared up at him, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva onto the marble. "Do it, boy. Pull the trigger. Proving you're just like me."
Luca stared down at him for one long, agonizing second. Then, slowly, a cold, humorless smile touched his lips.
"No," Luca said, lowering the hammer of the gun. "Killing you is too easy. Marcus, lock him in the lower shipping containers down by the river. Let federal agents find him in the morning. He's going away for the rest of his natural life."
As Marcus and his men hauled a screaming, thrashing Moretti away toward the back exit, the adrenaline finally drained out of Luca's body.
He dropped the gun, pressed his hand against his bleeding side, and slumped forward against the base of the grand staircase.
"Luca!"
I sprinted down the stairs, tripping over the hem of my dress, and threw myself onto the floor beside him, gathering his bleeding head into my lap.
"Luca, look at me! Stay with me!" I sobbed, pressing my hands against the wound on his side to stem the flow of blood.
He opened his heavy eyelids, looking up at me with those dark, intense eyes, a faint, exhausted smile touching his bruised lips.
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"I told you..." he whispered, his voice raspy and weak. "I told you I'd keep you breathing."
"You idiot," I cried, tears streaming down my face as I pressed my forehead against his. "You absolute idiot."
