Chapter 10 - The Italian Escape
Maso shoved Alessandro out of the way just as a sniper bullet ricocheted violently off the iron door frame.
Maso laid down heavy suppressive fire, forcing the hidden federal sniper to temporarily seek cover.
We slipped through the heavy iron door and sprinted down the dark, winding wine cellar tunnels.
The underground path led us directly to a hidden private dock situated quietly on the edge of Lake Michigan.
A sleek, unmarked speedboat was waiting in the water, fully fueled and ready for a rapid extraction.
We boarded the vessel quickly, and Maso steered us away into the freezing, foggy darkness of the lake.
We watched the red and blue police lights swarm our beautiful estate from the safety of the open water.
Three months later, the violent chaos of Chicago felt like a distant, fading nightmare.
We were living peacefully in a stunning, sun-drenched villa overlooking the crystal blue waters of Sicily.
The commission had officially pardoned Alessandro, recognizing that Ruggero was a traitor who deserved his fate.
Elena was finally living a normal, happy life, completely free from the dangerous shadows of her birthright.
Alessandro and I had spent the last ninety days slowly healing, rebuilding our trust and our immense love.
We stood on the beautiful stone balcony, watching the orange sun set peacefully over the Mediterranean Sea.
Alessandro wrapped his strong arms around my waist and kissed my neck softly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stunning, flawless diamond ring set in pure white gold.
He slipped it onto my finger, promising that he would never let anything break us apart ever again.
I smiled up at him, feeling incredibly safe, wealthy, and absolutely perfectly loved.
Later that evening, I sat alone on the balcony, admiring how the new diamond sparkled in the moonlight.
I took the ring off to examine the craftsmanship, noticing a tiny hallmark stamped deep inside the gold band.
The blood completely drained from my face when I recognized the distinct, terrifying crest of the Russian Syndicate.
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Suddenly, my secure encrypted phone began to buzz loudly on the glass patio table.
I stared in absolute horror as the caller ID displayed the name of my father, who had been dead for five years.
