Chapter 9 - The Burning School
"Get every man you have on the street," Luca roared, his voice echoing off the sterile hospital walls. "I want Marco Bellini found before sunrise!"
"He's in the wind, Moretti," Agent Vance said, already dialing his radio to coordinate a city-wide manhunt. "If his men broke him out of federal custody, they didn't do it to stick around. They’re leaving the state."
"He's not leaving," Luca said, his dark eyes burning with lethal certainty. "He’s going for the boy. If he has my son, he has the ultimate leverage to demand the Commission reinstate him."
Luca turned to me, gripping my shoulders. "Caroline, what is the name of the school? Where did Thomas hide him?"
My mind raced, trying to recall the frantic details Thomas had whispered before passing out.
"He said upstate," I stammered, panic clouding my memory. "A private boarding school. He registered him under Leo Hayes."
"That's not enough!" Luca said, desperation bleeding into his voice. "There are fifty boarding schools upstate."
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus. I pictured our tiny apartment eight years ago. I pictured Thomas sitting at the kitchen table, paying bills.
The deductions.
"St. Jude’s!" I gasped, my eyes snapping open. "I saw a bank statement once. St. Jude’s Academy in Oak Creek."
Luca didn't hesitate. "Silvio! We're leaving!"
"I'm coming," I said, grabbing my coat from the chair.
"No, Caroline," Luca commanded, pointing a rigid finger at me. "You stay here with Thomas and Emma. The feds have this floor locked down. It's safe."
"He's fourteen years old, Luca," I pleaded, the motherly instinct overriding my fear. "If you go in there with armed men, you'll terrify him. He thinks Thomas is his uncle. He needs a familiar face, a name he recognizes."
Luca stared at me. He knew I was right. A tactical raid would traumatize the boy, assuming Marco hadn't already gotten there.
"Fine," Luca agreed grimly. "But you stay in the car until the building is secure."
We sprinted down the hallway to the private elevator.
The drive to Oak Creek, usually a two-hour journey north of Chicago, took forty-five minutes. Luca drove the armored SUV at terrifying speeds, ignoring red lights and speed limits, with three identical vehicles flanking us.
The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon when we turned onto the winding, forested road that led to St. Jude’s Academy.
But as we rounded the final bend, the sky wasn't painted with the soft pink of dawn.
It was glowing an angry, violent orange.
"No," Luca breathed, slamming on the brakes.
The SUV skidded to a halt at the iron gates of the academy.
The main dormitory building, a massive, three-story historic brick structure, was engulfed in flames. Black smoke billowed into the morning sky. The sound of cracking timber and shattering glass echoed through the silent woods.
"Marco got here first," Silvio said grimly from the backseat.
Luca didn't wait for his men to secure the perimeter. He kicked his door open and sprinted toward the burning building, a father possessed.
"Luca, wait!" I screamed, jumping out of the SUV and running after him.
The heat radiating from the building was unbearable. The front doors had been blown off their hinges—a clear sign this wasn't an accidental fire. It was a tactical breach designed to cause maximum chaos.
Students and teachers in pajamas were huddled on the front lawn, coughing and crying, illuminated by the firelight.
Luca grabbed a terrified headmaster by the collar of his bathrobe.
"Where is Leo Hayes?" Luca roared over the roar of the flames.
The headmaster trembled, pointing a shaking finger toward the burning building. "Third floor... the men in masks... they trapped him up there. They set the fire in the stairwell so we couldn't reach him."
Marco hadn't come to kidnap Leo.
He had come to burn him alive, erasing the Moretti bloodline entirely.
Luca looked up at the third floor. Flames were licking out of the windows, consuming the ivy on the brick walls.
Without a word, Luca pulled off his expensive suit jacket, soaked it in a puddle from a broken sprinkler pipe, and wrapped it around his head.
"Boss, you can't!" Silvio yelled, grabbing Luca’s arm. "The roof is going to collapse!"
Luca threw a devastating right hook, dropping his own head of security to the grass.
"That's my son," Luca snarled.
He charged into the blazing building.
I stood on the lawn, screaming his name, but the roar of the fire drowned me out. Tears streamed down my face, stinging from the thick black smoke. I couldn't lose another person to this family.
Minutes felt like agonizing hours. Sirens wailed in the distance as local fire trucks finally approached.
The roof of the dormitory groaned, the massive wooden support beams beginning to buckle under the intense heat.
"He's not coming out," a teacher sobbed next to me.
Suddenly, a massive explosion of sparks erupted from the second-story window.
A heavy oak desk crashed through the glass, plummeting to the grass below.
A split second later, a figure emerged on the window ledge, surrounded by billowing black smoke.
It was Luca.
And clutched tightly to his chest, wrapped in his wet suit jacket, was a young boy.
"Jump!" the firemen screamed, unfurling a rescue net on the lawn below.
The roof above Luca gave a terrifying, metallic screech, beginning to cave inward.
Luca didn't hesitate. He held the boy tightly and leaped into the open air just as the third floor collapsed into the building in a massive fireball.
They hit the rescue net hard, bouncing into the arms of the waiting firefighters.
I sprinted across the lawn, dropping to my knees beside the net.
Luca was coughing violently, his face covered in soot, his white shirt scorched brown. He rolled onto the grass, immediately pulling the wet jacket away from the boy.
"Are you okay?" Luca rasped, his voice shredded by the smoke. "Are you hurt?"
The boy coughed, rubbing his soot-stained eyes. He was fourteen, with unruly dark hair and sharp, intelligent eyes.
He looked exactly like Luca. The resemblance was so striking it stole my breath.
"I'm fine," the boy coughed, looking terrified but remarkably calm. He looked at Luca, confusion masking his fear. "Who are you? Why did you save me?"
Luca stared at the boy. The ruthless mafia boss, the man who controlled half of Chicago, burst into tears. He reached out with a trembling hand, gently touching the boy's soot-covered cheek.
"I'm your father, Leo," Luca whispered, his voice cracking with fourteen years of stolen grief and sudden, absolute joy. "I'm your father, and I am never letting you go again."
The boy stared at him, wide-eyed, processing the massive revelation as the dormitory burned behind them.
Before Leo could answer, Silvio rushed over, helping Luca to his feet.
"Boss, we have a problem," Silvio yelled over the sirens, pointing toward the edge of the woods.
I turned around.
Standing in the shadow of the treeline, watching the reunion with a cruel, mocking smile, was Marco Bellini.
He was holding a detonator in his hand.
"How touching," Marco yelled, his voice carrying over the chaos. "The family reunited. Too bad you didn't check the SUVs, Luca."
My stomach plummeted.
Luca spun around, looking at our line of armored vehicles parked near the gate.
May you like
"I rigged the cars while you were playing fireman," Marco sneered, raising the detonator. "Goodbye, Moretti."
Marco pressed the button.
