Chapter 7 - THE BROKEN MANAGER
Christian didn’t hesitate. He swung the heavy iron pipe, striking Antoine directly in the ribs. The manager crumpled to the concrete floor, dropping the shotgun.
Christian’s men instantly raised their weapons, dropping Romanov’s remaining thugs before they could pull their triggers.
The basement fell silent, save for the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights and the steady dripping of water from Sophie’s soaked clothes.
Christian dropped the pipe. He leaned heavily against the concrete wall, clutching a dark, spreading stain on his side. He had been shot.
“Christian!” Sophie yelled, rushing toward him with Max still in her arms.
Christian looked up. His eyes locked onto the small boy in the blue coat.
Answer One: Christian had fought his way out of the restaurant and tracked them to the hospital, surviving on pure adrenaline and a father’s desperate will.
Max stared at the tall, bleeding man. He slowly wiggled out of Sophie’s arms and took a hesitant step forward.
“Are you my dad?” Max asked, his voice echoing in the cold basement.
Christian fell to his knees, ignoring the agonizing pain in his side. He reached out with trembling, bloodstained hands and pulled the boy into his chest. He buried his face in Max’s dark hair, his broad shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
“I’m here, Max,” Christian whispered fiercely. “I’m right here. I will never let you go again.”
Sophie stood back, her hand covering her mouth as tears mixed with the water on her face.
Open Two: With Romanov incapacitated and Antoine defeated, what would the police do when they arrived at a hospital full of bodies?
Christian pulled back, looking at his son’s face. He smiled, a genuine, heartbreakingly gentle expression. Then he looked up at Sophie.
“You saved him,” Christian said. “You saved my whole world.”
“We need to get out of here,” Sophie said, glancing at her mother on the gurney. “The police will be here any second.”
Christian struggled to his feet, wincing. He looked down at Antoine, who was groaning on the floor, clutching his broken ribs.
Reversal: Antoine expected a bullet to the head. That was the mafia way. But Christian didn't draw a gun.
Christian knelt beside the man who had betrayed him after eighteen years.
“Why, Antoine?” Christian asked quietly. “You were family.”
Antoine spat blood onto the concrete. “Because your father promised me a cut of the Southside territory before he died. You gave it to a charity trust. I earned that money, Christian. Romanov promised to give it back.”
Christian shook his head slowly. “My father was a butcher. I gave it away so I wouldn’t have to be one.”
He stood up, looking at his men. “Leave him. Let the police find him. The Callahan family is done shedding blood.”
Christian turned to Dr. Evans, who was cowering in the corner.
“You will move this woman to the penthouse recovery suite,” Christian commanded, pointing at Sophie’s mother. “You will provide her with the best care in this state. If she so much as complains about a cold cup of coffee, I will return. Do you understand?”
Dr. Evans nodded violently.
Christian picked up Max. “Let’s go home.”
They moved out to the loading dock, slipping into the waiting SUVs just as the distant wail of police sirens pierced the night air.
As they drove away from the hospital, Christian leaned his head back against the leather seat. He looked at Sophie, who was sitting quietly, holding her mother’s wooden rosary.
“You’re out of a job, Sophie,” Christian said softly.
Sophie looked up, her heart sinking. “What?”
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“Le Jardin Noir is burned,” Christian explained, pulling a heavy brass key from his pocket. “But the deed to the property survived. And it needs a new owner.”
TITLE: The Brass Key
