Chapter 6 - The Taste of Truth|
The heavy iron door at the end of the penthouse hallway groaned under a sudden, brutal impact. The screech of tearing metal echoed off the exposed brick walls.
"Luca, take the left column!" Matteo barked, dropping low behind a marble kitchen island.
Elena scrambled backward, hiding behind the heavy velvet sofa, her hands clutching the silver revolver with a white-knuckled grip. Her mind was a chaotic storm. Hours ago, she had been worrying about her landlord raising the rent on her tiny one-bedroom apartment. Now, she was holding a loaded gun in a multimillion-dollar safehouse while men tried to blow down the door.
Never change the recipe.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind again. Why had Isabella been so insistent? Not one ingredient. Not ever.
A loud flashbang detonated near the entrance, filling the air with blinding white light and a deafening roar that made Elena’s ears ring with high-pitched agony.
Shouts erupted. Automatic gunfire rattled through the suite, shattering glass shelves, shredding artwork, and raining plaster dust down like snow.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her knees up to her chest. Through the haze of smoke and chaos, she saw Matteo advance with frightening precision. He moved like a shadow, firing three quick shots, each followed by the heavy thump of a body hitting the hardwood floor.
"Fall back!" a voice screamed from the hallway—a voice that sounded shockingly familiar.
Elena peeked over the top of the sofa through the swirling smoke.
Standing near the ruined doorway, holding a tactical submachine gun, was the head chef from Bellavita.
"Chef Julian?" Elena gasped, her voice lost in the noise.
Julian’s face was grim, covered in soot. He spotted Elena behind the sofa and lowered his weapon slightly. "Elena! Get away from him! He’s using you!"
Matteo fired from behind the island, forcing Julian to duck behind the doorframe. "Don't listen to him, Elena! Julian has been on my father's payroll for three years!"
"He's lying to you, girl!" Julian yelled back over the sound of reloading magazines. "Who do you think hired your mother twenty-five years ago? Who do you think paid for her medical bills when she was dying in that hospital? It wasn't the De Lucas—it was us! She belonged to the Moretti family!"
Elena’s head spun violently. Moretti? The rival syndicate that had fought the De Lucas for control of the docks a decade ago.
"She didn't belong to anyone!" Elena screamed, her voice cracking as she pushed herself up from behind the sofa, holding the revolver out with both hands. "Stop it! Both of you!"
The room fell into an eerie, sudden silence. The heavy smoke drifted slowly toward the shattered light fixtures.
Julian stepped into the room, his gun pointed down at the floor, but his eyes locked on her. "Elena, put the gun down. Your mother was a brave woman. She stole that ledger to destroy the De Lucas forever. Give me the notebook, and I’ll get you out of the city tonight."
Matteo stepped out from behind the marble island, his gun raised, pointed directly at Julian’s head. "If she gives you that notebook, Julian, you’ll put a bullet in her head before she reaches the street."
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Elena looked from the chef who had trained her to the man who claimed to have loved her mother.
Her phone, still in her pocket, vibrated softly against her leg.
