Chapter 6 - A Desperate Escape
At the south dockyards bordering the Chicago River, rain hammered against the hood of the black Suburban. Marco pulled the vehicle behind an abandoned shipping warehouse, killing the engine. Elena sat in the backseat, her breathing shallow, clutching her stomach with both hands. The contractions were no longer irregular; they were coming every five minutes, sharp and debilitating.
""Mrs. Moretti, we have to keep moving,"" Marco said, checking the rearview mirror with a blood-smeared forehead. ""The GPS trackers on the back roads are offline. If Luca’s men have the bridge checkpoints covered, we’ll be trapped in Cook County.""
""I... I can't, Marco,"" Elena gasped, tears spilling over her eyelashes as a wave of intense labor pain seized her body. ""The water broke five minutes ago. The baby is coming.""
Marco’s face paled beneath his combat grease. He could dismantle a bomb in ninety seconds and take out five snipers in pitch darkness, but delivering a child inside a bullet-riddled SUV during a mob war was entirely beyond his operational capabilities.
Suddenly, a heavy thud landed on the roof of the vehicle. Marco drew his sidearm instantly, but the passenger door was yanked open from the outside.
A soaked, blood-drenched figure collapsed into the front seat.
""Dante!"" Elena cried out, reaching forward between the front bucket seats.
Dante groaned, coughing up a mouthful of water mixed with blood. His left arm hung limp, dislocated from the brutal landing on the lower dock canopy, but when he heard Elena’s voice, life surged back into his eyes. He twisted around, his trembling, calloused hands finding her face.
""You're alive... thank God, you're alive,"" he rasped, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her trembling lips.
""Dante, the baby,"" Elena sobbed, leaning her forehead against his chest. ""She’s coming now. I can’t stop it.""
Dante looked at Marco, the unspoken reality passing between the two men in an instant. They couldn't go to any public hospital; Luca’s informants had every emergency room in Illinois under surveillance.
""Take us to Saint Jude’s Convent in Cicero,"" Dante commanded Marco, resetting his own dislocated shoulder against the passenger door frame with a sickening crunch and a muffled roar of pain. ""Sister Beatrice was our mother’s cousin. The catacombs beneath the chapel are fortified and completely off-grid. Go!""
The SUV roared to life, tires smoking against the wet asphalt as Marco sped into the stormy night. Dante climbed into the back seat, wrapping his good arm tightly around Elena, pulling her into his lap despite the agony in his ribs.
""Look at me, Elena. Look at my eyes,"" Dante murmured, his voice softening into pure tenderness. ""You have been the strongest part of my life since the day you walked into my world. I failed you tonight. I let my past invade our sanctuary. But I will deliver our child, and I swear to you on my soul, you will never spend another night in fear.""
Elena gripped his hand so tightly her knuckles turned white, letting out a primal scream as another contraction ripped through her core. ""Don't you dare die on me, Dante Moretti! We finish this together!""
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Twenty minutes later, the Suburban crashed through the iron gates of Saint Jude’s Convent. Nuns in traditional habits rushed into the courtyard with umbrellas and medical linens, alerted by an emergency radio frequency. Marco and Dante carried Elena through the arched stone corridors down into the candlelit stone infirmary deep beneath the old chapel.
As the storm raged above, shaking the stained-glass windows of the century-old sanctuary, the underground chamber filled with the sound of a sharp, newborn cry.
