Chapter 9 - What Remains
The hallway outside was thick with gray gunsmoke and the sharp stench of burnt cordite.
Franco stood in the doorway, his arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, his face covered in soot. Behind him stood two Marchetti guards, holding shotguns, their expressions grim.
"Franco!" I gasped. "Alaric... where is Alaric?"
Franco stepped aside.
At the end of the dark stone corridor, leaning heavily against the brick wall, stood Alaric.
His cashmere overcoat was gone. His white dress shirt was torn, soaked with blood along his left shoulder, and stained with soot. In his right hand, he still held his pistol, the barrel pointing toward the concrete floor.
When he saw us step out of the panic room, the terrifying, lethal mask on his face shattered instantly into pieces.
"Papa!" Sophia screamed, navigating the corridor by memory, her hands reaching out into the smoke-filled air.
Alaric dropped his gun to the floor with a heavy metallic clatter, dropped to his knees despite the pain in his bleeding shoulder, and caught his daughter as she threw herself into his chest.
He pulled her into an embrace so tight, so fierce, that his entire body shook with silent, racked sobs. He buried his face in her dark hair, kissing her head again and again, whispering prayers in rapid, broken Italian.
"I've got you... I've got you, mia cara..." he wept quietly, his voice cracked and raw. "You're safe. Papa's here."
I stood by the panic room door, my hand covering my mouth, tears flowing freely down my cheeks as I watched them.
Slowly, Alaric lifted his head. His gray eyes, filled with bloodshot exhaustion and raw, unfiltered emotion, found mine across the smoky corridor.
He extended his right hand toward me—the hand that wasn't covered in his own blood.
May you like
I didn't hesitate. I walked down the corridor, dropped to my knees beside them in the cold dust, and took his hand. He pulled me forward until my forehead rested against his good shoulder, his arm wrapping around both Sophia and me, holding us together in the ruins of his fortress.
"It's over, Mia," Alaric murmured against my hair, his breath warm against my neck. "Santino is gone. The Morettis are finished in this city. It's finally over."
