Chapter 5 - The Birthday Trap
I spent the next forty-eight hours trapped in a waking nightmare. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, and every time the phone rang at Rosetti's, I jumped out of my skin, expecting Alaric’s men to drag me into an alley. I felt a profound, aching grief—not for the five-thousand-dollar contract, but for Sophia, who was once again trapped in her silent fortress, and for Alaric, who believed I was just another knife in his back.
On the night of December 14th—Alaric’s thirty-five th birthday—the restaurant was packed. The snow was falling heavily outside, covering the Chicago streets in a thick, white blanket.
"Mia, table four needs more bread," Tony shouted over the din of the bar.
I grabbed the basket, my hands shaking so hard a roll tumbled onto the floor. I quickly replaced it, my mind completely consumed by the image of Sophia sitting alone in that massive kitchen, her rosemary lamb chops unmade, her secret birthday menu ruined.
Suddenly, the front doors of Rosetti's were kicked open with such force the glass shattered against the brick entryway.
Three men in heavy wool coats stepped inside, their faces covered by black ski masks. In their hands, they carried short-barreled submachine guns.
The restaurant erupted into a chorus of blood-curdling screams. Customers threw themselves under tables, plates smashing against the floor, wine glasses shattering as the patrons scrambled for cover.
"Nobody move!" one of the gunmen roared, his voice amplified by the enclosed space. He pointed his weapon directly at Tony behind the bar. "Where is the girl? Where is Mia Chen?"
My heart stopped beating. The world tilted on its axis. They weren't here for a robbery. They were here for me.
"I’m right here," I said, stepping out from behind the service station before they could start shooting innocent people. My voice was surprisingly steady, fueled by a sudden, desperate surge of adrenaline. "Don't hurt anyone else. I’m the one you want."
The leader of the gunmen walked over to me, grabbing my forearm with a brutal, crushing grip. He ripped my apron from my waist, throwing it to the floor. "The Luciano family sends its regards, sweetheart. You’re going to help us bring the Iron Don to his knees tonight."
They dragged me out into the blinding snowstorm, throwing me into the back of a black cargo van before the police could even be notified.
As the van sped through the icy streets, my hands were bound tightly behind my back with heavy plastic zip-ties. The leader sat opposite me, checking the magazine of his weapon.
"You think you’re pretty smart, don't you, Mia?" the man mocked, pulling off his ski mask.
My breath caught. It was one of the guards who had been standing at the gate of the Marchetti brownstone just last week.
"You..." I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "You’re the leak. Not me. Matteo was wrong."
"Matteo wasn't wrong, sweetheart—Matteo is the one who hired me," the guard laughed, a cruel, wheezing sound. "Matteo’s been working with the Lucianos for a year. He wanted Alaric’s throne. He used your father’s old history to frame you, knowing Alaric would throw you out. And tonight, while Alaric is celebrating his birthday alone like a pathetic, grieving widow, we’re going to use you as bait to draw him into an ambush at the old pier warehouse."
Tears of pure rage and terror spilled over my cheeks. Alaric wasn't safe. Sophia wasn't safe. The man Alaric trusted most in the world had sold him out.
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"He won't come for me," I lied, trying to throw them off. "He thinks I’m a traitor. He told me to never come back."
The guard leaned forward, his hot, sour breath foul against my face. "Oh, he’ll come, Mia. Our boys inside the house just sent word. Alaric found the secret birthday menu you left in the kitchen drawer. The kid told him everything. He knows you didn't sell him out. Right now, the Iron Don is tearing through the city looking for you. And he’s walking straight into a firing squad."
