Chapter 25
The escape from the cottage was a blur of rain,
shadows,
and the sharp scent of gunpowder.
Michael led the way through the back garden,
his own weapon drawn as they moved toward the hidden garage.
Alessandro carried Livia,
her small face tucked into the crook of his neck,
her hands clutching his shirt so tightly he could feel her trembling.
Rosalie followed close behind,
her breath coming in ragged gasps.
As they reached the car,
a figure emerged from the darkness of the tree line.
A woman,
wearing a long black raincoat,
her face illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning.
It was Bianca.
She looked different than she had in the mediation room.
Her eyes were bright with a manic,
feverish energy,
and she was holding a heavy silver revolver.
"Going somewhere, Alessandro?"
she asked,
her voice high and brittle.
"Bianca, put the gun down,"
Alessandro said,
his voice a low growl.
"You're breaking your probation."
"You're going to go to prison."
"I don't care about prison!"
she screamed,
the wind catching her hair and whipping it around her face.
"You took everything from me!"
"My status,
my future,
my pride!"
"And for what?"
"For a child who shouldn't even be here!"
She pointed the gun directly at Livia.
Alessandro stepped in front of his daughter,
his body a living shield.
"You touch her, and I will make sure you never see the sun again,"
he said,
his voice devoid of any emotion.
"The 'True Rizzanos' told me you'd be here,"
Bianca laughed,
the sound chillingly familiar.
"They said if I helped them,
I could have you back."
"They lied to you, Bianca,"
Alessandro said,
taking a slow step forward.
"They’re using you."
"Just like Dominic used you."
"No!"
she shrieked,
her finger tightening on the trigger.
"I’m in control now!"
A shot rang out,
shattering the sound of the rain.
But it didn't come from Bianca's gun.
Michael had fired from the side,
the bullet catching Bianca in the shoulder.
She spun around,
the revolver flying from her hand as she collapsed into the mud.
Alessandro didn't wait to see if she was alive.
He threw Livia and Rosalie into the car and slammed the door.
"Go!"
he yelled at Michael,
who jumped into the driver's seat.
The car roared to life,
tires spinning on the wet gravel as they sped away from the cottage.
Alessandro looked back through the rear window.
He saw figures emerging from the beach,
the beams of their flashlights cutting through the dark.
He saw Bianca lying on the ground,
a dark stain spreading across her coat.
And he saw the cottage,
the only place he had ever felt happy,
growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
Livia was crying now,
a soft,
pitiful sound that tore at his heart.
Rosalie was holding her,
whispering words of comfort that neither of them believed.
"Where are we going?"
Rosalie asked,
her eyes meeting Alessandro's in the rearview mirror.
"To the only place they can't follow us,"
Alessandro said,
his face set in a mask of grim determination.
"Back to the beginning."
He realized that he had been wrong.
You couldn't walk away from a name like Rizzano.
You could only burn it to the ground so completely that there was nothing left to haunt you.
The war was no longer about debt or assets.
It was about survival.
And Alessandro Rizzano was done being a father who hesitated.
He was a father who was going to finish what his family had started.
As the car sped into the night,
away from the sea and toward the city,
the transformation was complete.
The peace was dead.
The king was back.
And God help anyone who stood in his way.
