Chapter 4 - The Midnight Escape
The downpour had turned Manhattan into a blur of neon reflections and slick asphalt. Inside the heavy, bulletproof interior of the Moretti SUV, the silence was suffocating. Vincent drove with practiced, aggressive precision, maneuvering through the side streets of Midtown, constantly checking his side mirrors for tailing vehicles.
Sophia sat in the back seat, holding Emma tightly in her lap. Emma had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her head resting heavily against Sophia’s chest, her tiny thumb tucked into her mouth.
"Where are you taking us?" Sophia asked, her eyes darting toward the dark windows.
"A place where Marco’s men can't find you," Vincent said, his voice grim in the dark front cabin. "If Marco knows the child saw him in the study, he won't hesitate. To men like Marco, a witness is a witness, whether they are thirty or three."
"Why is he doing this?" Sophia wept silently. "We are just normal people. We have nothing to do with your family or your business!"
"You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Sophia," Vincent sighed, turning the heavy wheel as the vehicle entered the dark entrance of the Queens Midtown Tunnel. "Or perhaps the right place. Alessandro has been suspicious of Marco for six months. Money was disappearing from the Red Hook shipping docks, and information was leaking to the FBI. But Alessandro loved his cousin like a brother. He refused to believe Marco would turn on the blood."
Vincent’s eyes met Sophia’s in the rearview mirror.
"Your little girl gave him the proof he couldn't bring himself to look for."
Suddenly, a heavy black sedan burst through the traffic behind them, its headlights flashing blindingly bright in the rearview mirror.
"Hold on!" Vincent shouted, slamming his foot on the accelerator.
, The sudden speed threw Sophia back against the leather seat. She wrapped her arms around Emma, burying the child’s face into her coat. Behind them, the black sedan surged forward, ramming the rear bumper of the Moretti SUV with a sickening crunch of metal!
Emma woke up screaming, terrified by the sudden violent motion and the roar of the engine echoing inside the tunnel walls.
"Shh, baby, shh! Mama’s here!" Sophia cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"They brought friends," Vincent growled, pulling a heavy silver pistol from his shoulder holster with one hand while keeping the other locked on the steering wheel. He glanced at the dashboard monitor, which showed three black SUVs swarming around them as they exited the tunnel into Long Island City.
A gunshot shattered the night air, striking the reinforced rear window of the SUV. The bulletproof glass spiderwebbed with white fractures, but held.
"Vincent!" Sophia screamed.
"Keep her down!" Vincent yelled, weaving the heavy vehicle through a deserted industrial district near the East River docks.
Ahead of them, two more vehicles pulled across the narrow street, blocking the road entirely. Armed men in dark coats stepped out, raising automatic rifles.
Vincent slammed on the brakes. The SUV skidded across the slick pavement, coming to a halt just fifty yards from the barricade. They were trapped. To the left was a brick warehouse; to the right, the cold, black water of the river. Behind them, the sedan that had chased them through the tunnel pulled up, blocking their escape.
"Out of the car!" a voice shouted through a megawatt bullhorn from behind the barricade. It was Marco Moretti. "Hand over the maid and the kid, Vincent, and maybe Alessandro lets you live to enjoy your pension!"
Vincent looked down at his gun, then into the rearview mirror at Sophia and the sobbing child.
"I’m an old man, Sophia," Vincent said quietly, his voice oddly peaceful. "I served Carmine Moretti for forty years. I won't let his family fall to a bastard like Marco."
Vincent unlocked the driver’s side door and prepared to step out into the rain.
Before he could open it, a blinding flash of white light illuminated the dark street from above.
The roar of a heavy helicopter engine shook the air, drowning out the sound of the rain. A massive searchlight cut through the darkness, pinning Marco’s men in a beam of brilliant white light.
From the shadow of the nearby warehouse, three black armored trucks roared forward, smashing through the barricade with terrifying force. Armed men in black tactical gear poured out, securing the perimeter with lethal efficiency.
And from the lead armored truck stepped Alessandro Moretti.
He wore no coat against the pouring rain. His black suit was soaked, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, but his face was an absolute mask of vengeful wrath. In his hand, he held a sleek black assault rifle.
"Marco!" Alessandro’s voice boomed over the roar of the helicopter overhead. "You forgot the first rule of this family!"
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Alessandro leveled the rifle toward the sky and fired a three-round burst that shattered the quiet night.
"Nobody touches what’s mine."
