Ch. I Watch 11 I Watch 11

Chapter 11 

The negotiation in Blacksand was far more perilous than anticipated. 

In that abandoned port warehouse, I spent six grueling days in a standoff with Salazar and his dozen gunmen. 

On several occasions, I had gun barrels pointed directly at my forehead. 

Finally, just as I used my final piece of leverage to force his signature, rival gangs in the town turned on each other, and a fierce firefight erupted. 

The bodyguards who came with me fell one by one, covering my retreat. I hid behind a solid concrete barrier. Flying shrapnel sliced open my arm, the blood quickly staining my trench coat crimson. 

Leaning against the freezing wall, I booted my encrypted device, took a photo of the signed treaty, and sent it to San Celano. 

As the progress bar crept forward, bullets rattled fiercely against the tin roof, and muzzle flashes flickered violently through the bullet holes. 

In that moment, a flood of memories surged over me. 

The hallway light in the orphanage that was never fixed on cold winter nights. 

The Christmas spent splitting a plate of spaghetti with Julian in that rundown apartment. 

That baby born far too soon in the incubator, his tiny fingers never having the strength to grip mine even once. 

The warmth of Vittorio’s hands when he pressed that antique pocket watch into my palm in the study. 

And the eyes of my father in that portrait, eyes that looked exactly like mine. 

The screen flashed: Message Sent. 

The exact second the treaty reached the Family, the thugs kicked down the scrap metal door of my barricade, guns raised. 

I calmly straightened the bloodstained collar of my coat and closed my eyes, ready for the hail of bullets. 

At that very second, a deafening roar of engines ripped through the warehouse’s corrugated iron walls. 

Several black, bulletproof SUVS smashed their way in with the ferocity of wild beasts. 

Suppressive heavy gunfire instantly followed. San Celano’s deadliest hitmen poured out, cutting down the remaining thugs in seconds and forming a tight, impenetrable shield around me. 

A blood-soaked enforcer hoisted me from the ground. My ears were ringing from the blasts. 

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard his hoarse roar over the clatter of spent shells. “Hold on, Miss Vitale! We have orders from the Commission! We’re to bring the Consigliere’s daughter home!” 

I looked at him, and at the Family hitmen behind him, fanned out in a protective formation, guarding me with their lives at the center. 

At that moment, my blood-stained lips curled into a smile. 

I closed my eyes. This time, someone had finally come for me. To take me home. 

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