Chapter 6 - The Refusal
Lucia gripped the armrests of the wheelchair so hard her knuckles turned white.
“You want me to abandon my daughter?” she asked, her voice trembling with absolute rage.
Salvatore buttoned his suit jacket, completely unbothered by her anger.
“She is a Moretti, Lucia.”
“Her blood is a liability to our family.”
“I will pay for the best doctors in the city to keep her alive, but you will not be here to raise her.”
Lucia looked at the man who had traded her to Dante six years ago for a peace treaty.
He was treating her child like another chip in a poker game.
“No,” Lucia said firmly.
Salvatore’s eyes narrowed.
“You do not have a choice, little girl.”
“Dante’s men are massing outside this hospital right now.”
“If you stay here, you will die.”
Lucia looked up at Michael Grant.
The security chief subtly rested his hand on the grip of his holstered gun.
“I am taking my daughter with me,” Lucia declared.
“If you try to stop me, Michael will shoot you where you stand.”
Salvatore laughed, glancing at the single bodyguard.
“He is one man against forty of mine.”
“He is the best man in this city,” Lucia countered.
She turned to Gerald Whitmore, who was sweating profusely in the corner.
“Gerald, you said the hospital has a specialized transport incubator for critical transfers, right?”
“Yes,” Gerald stammered.
“It's in the basement garage.”
Lucia looked back at her father.
“I am leaving this room with my baby.”
“You can either order your men to shoot your only daughter, or you can get out of my way.”
Salvatore stared at her for a long, tense minute.
He saw the absolute, terrifying resolve in her eyes.
He saw the Romano blood burning in her veins.
“You are a fool,” Salvatore finally spat.
He gestured for his men to step aside.
“When Dante finds you, do not call me to clean up your mess.”
Salvatore turned and walked out of the room, taking his army with him.
Michael and Gerald immediately went to work.
They carefully transferred the tiny infant into a portable, battery-powered transport incubator.
Michael pushed Lucia’s wheelchair with one hand and pulled the heavy incubator with the other.
They navigated the service elevators down to the subterranean parking garage.
The basement was freezing and smelled of exhaust fumes.
Michael’s black SUV was parked near the loading dock.
“We made it,” Gerald breathed a sigh of relief.
Before they could reach the car, the headlights of three armored vehicles flicked on, blinding them.
The vehicles blocked the exit ramp entirely.
The door of the center vehicle opened.
May you like
Dante Moretti stepped out into the bright light, holding a suppressed handgun.
“You look terrible, my love,” Dante said softly.
