Chapter 10 - Blood and Salt
Time seemed to slow down to an agonizing crawl. The muzzle of Salvatore’s gun was leveled directly between my eyes. I knew if I let go of the wheel, the boat would capsize in the heavy swells, drowning Lily in the cabin below.
So I didn't let go. I stared straight into the eyes of the man who had ordered the hit that crippled a child and slaughtered her mother.
"Go to hell," I whispered.
Before Salvatore could pull the trigger, Luca lunged like an enraged panther from the stern deck.
With a roar that rivaled the thundering engines, Luca leaped across the three-foot gap between the speeding boats, crashing directly into Salvatore Bellini.
Both men slammed against the console of the pursuer's vessel. The gun discharged wildly, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly into the night sky.
I kept our boat parallel, my heart pounding so violently against my ribs I thought it would burst.
On the deck of the other boat, a brutal, life-or-death brawl ensued. Salvatore was desperate, biting, clawing, and swinging wildly with a hidden hunting knife. The blade slashed across Luca’s shoulder, tearing through his shirt and drawing a crimson ribbon of blood.
Luca didn't even flinch. His expression remained cold, detached, and terrifyingly focused. He grabbed Salvatore’s wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped with a sickening *crack*. The knife slipped from Salvatore’s paralyzed fingers.
Luca clamped both hands around Salvatore’s throat, driving the older man backward against the railing until Salvatore’s feet left the deck.
"You threatened my daughter," Luca growled, his voice cutting through the scream of the wind and the engines. "You threatened Emily. You signed your own warrant seven months ago, Salvatore."
"Luca... wait... we're family... we can negotiate—" Salvatore choked out, his face turning dark purple beneath the spray.
"The Morettis do not negotiate with vermin."
With a sudden, violent heave, Luca hurled Salvatore Bellini over the stern rail—straight into the churning, twin-blade brass propellers spinning beneath the frothing wake.
A brief, horrific cry was instantly swallowed by the roar of the engines and the churning black water.
Luca didn't waste a single second watching the red foam disappear into the dark lake. He vaulted back over the railing onto our boat, landing firmly on the deck. He took the wheel from my trembling hands, pulling back slightly on the throttles to bring the vessel under steady control.
His breathing was heavy, blood dripping steadily from the slash on his shoulder down his forearm.
"It's over," he said quietly, looking down at me. "The Bellini line is broken."
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I collapsed against his chest, completely drained of strength. Luca wrapped his uninjured arm around me, holding me firmly against him as the distant lights of the Wisconsin shoreline began to appear through the autumn mist.
"You did incredible, Emily," he murmured, his lips pressing softly against my damp hair. "You saved us all tonight."