Chapter 7 - The Empty Cathedral
Panic, cold and sharp, ripped through Lorenzo's chest.
He rushed to the hallway, but there was no sign of the attackers or the child.
Maria fell to her knees, letting out a soul-shattering scream that tore at Lorenzo’s remaining hearing.
Serena’s men had tracked her father to the safehouse.
They had silenced the old man before he could interfere, and they had taken the only witness who knew all of Serena's secrets.
Lorenzo checked the old man’s pulse, confirming that the patriarch of the Romano family was gone.
Pinned to the dead man’s jacket was a pristine white envelope.
Lorenzo tore it open, finding a single sentence written in Serena’s elegant handwriting.
"If you want the boy, come to your funeral."
She knew he was alive.
She had played them all perfectly, using her father as bait to draw Lorenzo out of hiding.
Lorenzo turned to Maria, his eyes burning with a terrifying resolve.
"I will bring him back," Lorenzo swore, grabbing his tactical vest and a heavy canvas bag of weapons.
"Stay here, lock the doors, and do not open them for anyone."
Lorenzo drove through the rain-slicked streets of New York, his mind racing with violent calculations.
The memorial was being held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, heavily guarded by Serena’s newly bought loyalists.
Walking through the front door would be a suicide mission.
Fortunately, Lorenzo had paid for the cathedral's renovations five years ago.
He knew about the forgotten catacombs beneath the church, a network of tunnels left off the official blueprints.
He parked blocks away and slipped into the city's sewer system, navigating the filth to reach the hidden entrance.
He emerged into the dusty darkness beneath the altar, the muffled sounds of the organ drifting down from above.
He loaded his weapons, checking every chamber and every sight with mechanical precision.
He could hear Serena's voice echoing through the floorboards, delivering a tearful speech about her tragically lost fiancé.
Lorenzo found the iron grate that led up to the vestry room behind the main altar.
He pushed it open quietly, stepping into the sacred space covered in dust.
He peeked through the crack of the heavy wooden doors leading to the nave.
Hundreds of mobsters sat in the pews, their heads bowed in fake reverence.
Serena stood at the pulpit, looking devastatingly beautiful in her black mourning veil.
But Lorenzo was not looking at her.
He was looking at the front row, where Marco sat holding little Leo firmly by the shoulder.
The toddler looked terrified, a small gun pressed discreetly against his ribs under Marco's coat.
Lorenzo kicked the heavy wooden doors completely off their hinges, stepping out into the light.
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The entire cathedral fell dead silent as a ghost walked into his own funeral.
"Hello, darling," Lorenzo announced, racking the slide of his shotgun.
