Chapter 6 6.
The rain that fell earlier turned the city into a cold and quiet place, not many people were on the streets. Inside the leather-scented cabin of Salvatore’s Ferrari, the only sound was the frantic ticking of the rain against the windshield and Elena’s own ragged breathing.
Salvatore drove with a terrifying, one-handed ease, his eyes fixed on the road like a predator tracking a scent. Elena sat pressed against the passenger door, her hands tucked between her knees to shield them from the cold that now tugged in the air. Every time the car hit a bump, it sent the silk of her gown hissed against the leather.
“You’re going to kill him, aren't you?” Elena’s voice was a ghost of itself.
Salvatore didn’t look at her. “Your father killed himself the moment he thought he could outsmart me because he's involved with a Russian weakling.
He reached over and flicked a switch on the dashboard. The high-definition screen flared to life, casting a cold blue glow over his sharp features.
“Wait,” Elena gasped, leaning forward.
It was a news bulletin. The banner at the bottom read: “INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER ELENA MORETTI MISSING.”
Then, there was Lucia.
Elena’s heart lurched with excitement. Her best friend was standing in front of the police cordons at the gala, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair windblown looking small and broken.
“Elena is more than a journalist,”Lucia was saying into a cluster of microphones, her voice trembling with a passion that made Elena feel loved. “She’s the conscience of this city. To whoever has taken her—know that you haven't just taken a woman but a light. And we won't stop looking until that light is back where it belongs.”
“Lucia,” Elena whispered, a hot tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. “She’s going to get herself killed because she has no idea who she’s fighting.” turning to look at Salvatore.
“She’s a performer,” Salvatore spat, his lip curling in a sneer. “Look at the way she angles her face for the key light, Elena. She’s not mourning you… she's auditioning for a prime-time slot.”
“You’re a monster,” Elena hissed, turning on him. “Not everyone is as hollow as you. She’s the only person who actually gives a damn if I live or die!”
“Is she?” Salvatore slowed the car as a blue light began to pulse in the rearview mirror. “Let’s see how much the law cares and how far she gets.”
An Alfa Romeo Giulia, marked with the insignia of the ‘Polizia’, pulled them over onto the shoulder of the dark highway. Elena’s pulse skyrocketed. This was it. Lucia’s report had worked because the police were searching every passing car.
“Help!” she screamed, lunging for the window, but the child locks were engaged. She thrashed against the door, her palms smearing the glass. “Over here! Please!”
The officer approached the driver’s side with his flashlight cutting through the rain. Salvatore rolled the window down just enough for the policeman to see his face. He didn't reach for his license. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a heavy, gold-embossed coin without uttering a word; he just held it between two fingers.
The officer’s flashlight hit the coin. He froze.
He didn't look into the car or care to notice the occupants. He clicked off his light, snapped a respectful salute and stepped back into the rain.
“Clear roads, Signor Romano,” the officer muttered, his voice devoid of anything but subservience.
Elena stopped screaming and slumped back into the seat, the air leaving her lungs in a long, hollow wheeze.
“They work for you,” she whispered, her eyes wide and glassy. “The whole city... it’s just one big cage, isn't it?”
Don Salvatore couldn't help but laugh. “I told you this city revolves round me and I decide who leaves…and who stays.”
“Money buys silence, Elena. But blood buys loyalty,” Salvatore said, pulling back onto the road. “And right now, your father is running out of both.”
Salvatore’s eyes flicked to the side mirror. Far behind them, two black SUVs had moved into the fast lane, their headlights off, trailing them.
“We're being followed,” Elena said her instincts flaring.
“I think I know that crest on the car.”
“The Volkovs?” Salvatore asked, his voice tightening.
“No,” Elena said. “The Di Mauro family. I remember I was writing an exposé on their human trafficking ring last month.
“Maybe the sensed I was close because they obviously couldn't have followed us from your house.” “But…how?”
Salvatore swore, a low, guttural sound. He checked the mirror again. The SUVs were gaining.
“The Di Mauros are bottom-feeders,” Salvatore growled. “They aren't here for you. They’re here to take a shot at me.”
The first bullet shattered the rear window.
The sound was loud disturbing the almost quiet neighbourhood. Glass sprayed across the interior, fine as diamond dust. Elena screamed, ducking her head between her knees as Salvatore slammed his foot onto the accelerator. The Ferrari roared, the engine screaming as it jumped from eighty to a hundred and forty miles per hour.
“Stay down!” Salvatore roared over the wind whistling through the broken glass. He looked through his rear mirror to take a better view.
Another burst of gunfire hit the car but salvatore didn't panic. He drove with a cold precision, weaving between the late-night trucks on the highway. He reached into the center console and pulled out a sleek, matte-black handgun.
“Hold the wheel,” he commanded.
“What? No!”
“Hold the damn wheel, Elena, or we both die on this asphalt!”
She reached out, her fingers trembling as she gripped the cold leather of the steering wheel. Salvatore leaned out the broken window, his body half-exposed to the freezing rain and the whistling wind. He fired three times.
One of the SUVs swerved, its front tire shredding as it slammed into the guardrail, erupting into a fireball that lit up the night sky.
“Salvatore Dock!, a gun is aimed at you”
Salvatore pulled himself back inside, his face wet with rain, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying adrenaline. He took the wheel back from her, his hand briefly brushing hers. His skin was burning hot.
“Thanks,” he had said staring deep into her eyes as Elena's cheeks went pink.
“They’ll be back with more,” he said, his breathing heavy. “We’re five minutes from your father’s club, I'm sure we'll be there before the pick trail again.”
\---
They reached ‘L'Eclissi’ at a drift, the tires screaming as Salvatore swung the Ferrari into the private VIP lot. He didn't even turn off the engine.
He grabbed Elena by the arm, dragging her out of the car. She stumbled, her bare feet hitting the cold, wet pavement. The club loomed over them, a temple of black glass and crimson lights. Two of Michael’s guards stepped forward, their hands moving to their holsters, but Salvatore didn't slow down. He kicked the front glass doors with such force that the locks shattered, the sound echoing through the empty lobby.
“Michael!” Salvatore’s voice echoed in summon.
They moved through the club, past the empty bars and the silent dance floors, toward the back office. Salvatore threw the double doors open.
Michael Moretti was standing behind his desk. He looked different than the man Elena remembered. He didn't look like the father who had tucked her in; he looked different. He held a glass of scotch with his eyes fixed on the door.
“You’re late, Salvatore,” Michael said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
Elena looked at her father. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to cry. But he didn't look at her face to see if she was hurt instead he glanced at her shoulder, then her hands, as if checking the condition of a piece of fine china he was about to sell.
“I know we haven't talked for the past three years but this is certainly a treatment.” Elena muttered to herself.
“I'm here to claim what's mine. To punish you for your son's.” salvatorr said positioning his gun at Michael.
“I know of the borders you use for cocoa, your deals with the russians, I know them all.” “You know this is my turf and you're still trying to put your hands in the Godfuking famn place.”
“But for her sake, I've decided to show mercy, for one last time.” Salvatore said dragging Elena closer to himself.
“It's not like he cares if I live or die.” Elena muttered gritting her teeth.
“I hate you dad, and I hate myself even more for thinking seconds ago that you'll for once in your life be a good father.”
Michael didn't deny her accusation not did he even blink. He took a slow sip of his drink.
“My men will bring in the contract and you'll sign them giving me right to your daughter to do as I please.” He said with a smile tugging at his lips.
Elena felt the floor tilt beneath her. The man who had held her during the raids, the man she had spent her life trying to honor through her work... he wasn't her protector.
Even though she'd openly resented him, he still remained her father. She didn't even think he'd be living a life like this because before he left, he was reeking of poverty.
Salvatore stepped forward, his hand still clamped firmly on Elena’s arm, but his grip had changed. It wasn't just a hold anymore; it felt almost like a barrier between her and the man behind the desk.
Michael smiled. “You have the girl, Salvatore but the Russians are dominating the city. Do you really think you can keep her?”
“What do you mean father?”
“I already signed a contract marriage last week signing you off to my closet Russian Don—
“You did what?”