Chapter 7 - The Trap Snaps Shut
Roman sprinted across the snow-slicked pier, leaping across the four-foot gap between the dock and the retreating stern of the Valentina just as the heavy hawser cables snapped under the strain of the churning propellers.
The ship lurched violently into the black waters of the harbor, cutting through the ice floes that drifted along the surface.
Roman hit the rusted steel deck, rolled to absorb the impact, and came up with his sidearm ready. The icy salt spray hit his face like a handful of needles. Behind him, on the fading shoreline, he could see Serena running along the pier, her silhouette framed by the flashing amber lights of Marcus’s position.
""You can't stop it, Roman!"" Elias’s voice crackled through the ship's external PA system, distorted by static and wind. ""I wired this tub six years ago! If I don't leave this harbor, neither do you!""
Roman moved along the narrow starboard walkway, staying low beneath the rusted railings. The Valentina groaned as its hull smashed through a sheet of harbor ice, heading straight for the deep-water shipping lane beneath the Tobin Memorial Bridge.
Roman kicked open the heavy watertight door leading into the lower salon.
The interior was stripped bare, smelling of bilge water, rotting mold, and raw fuel. At the far end of the passageway, a lone emergency light flickered above the metal ladder leading to the elevated wheelhouse.
As Roman reached the foot of the ladder, a burst of gunfire tore through the aluminum ceiling. Splinters of metal and insulation showered his shoulders. Elias was firing blindly down through the hatch with a heavy automatic pistol.
""You always thought you were better than me!"" Elias screamed from above, his voice cracking with hysteria. ""Vincent gave you the family, he gave you the accounts, he gave you Beacon Hill! What did I get? His scraps! His dirty laundry! I was the one who kept the politicians paid! I was the one who made the dirty deals that kept you in private school!""
Roman waited, counting the shots. Five. Six. Seven.
Click.
The slide locked back on an empty chamber.
Roman exploded up the ladder, his heavy boot catching the access hatch and slamming it open. He surged into the wheelhouse just as Elias was scrambling to reload a fresh magazine.
Roman struck with brutal efficiency. His right hand knocked the pistol from Elias’s grip, sending it skittering across the navigation console and shattering through the forward windshield. He grabbed Elias by the throat, driving him backward against the ship’s large brass helm.
The steering wheel spun out of control. The Valentina listed violently to port, its starboard hull slamming with a deafening screech of grinding metal against the stone foundation of Pier Eleven.
Elias gasped for air, his hands clawing at Roman’s iron grip. ""Roman... wait... please... we’re blood! We’re the last of the Belluccis!""
""My father was your blood,"" Roman growled, his face inches from his cousin’s pale, sweat-slicked face. ""Tomas Marchetti was a father. You tore this city apart, you made a widow out of Clara, and you nearly murdered a six-year-old child in her bed.""
""I did what I had to do to survive!"" Elias sputtered, blood trickling from his nose. ""Vincent was going to confess! He was going to name everyone! He had the files prepared for the U.S. Attorney! I saved this family from federal prison!""
""You didn't save anything,"" Roman whispered coldly. ""You just prolonged the funeral.""
Roman dragged Elias toward the bridge wing door. Outside, the blizzard was howling at fifty miles per hour, the black waters of Boston Harbor churning in a lethal vortex beneath the ship's hull.
Below them, on the pier, two sleek black limousines had pulled up alongside Marcus and Silas. From the lead vehicle stepped Don Antonio Valente—Serena’s father—surrounded by ten heavily armed men in dark overcoats.
Elias looked down at the gathering army of Valente soldiers and realized his nightmare had fully materialized. The two most powerful families in New England were not slaughtering each other; they were standing side by side, watching his demise.
""The police are coming, Roman,"" Elias whimpered, his arrogance entirely evaporated. ""You kill me here, and you spend the rest of your life in Walpole. Let me take a boat. I’ll disappear. You’ll never hear from me again.""
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Roman looked at the brass cylinder Marcus had recovered, then at the frayed rag doll tucked safely inside his own coat pocket.
""You aren't going to prison, Elias,"" Roman said. ""And you aren't going to open water.""
