Chapter 8 - The Yellow Flashlight
The warehouse was locked in a deadly, razor-thin standoff.
Rain hammered mercilessly against the metal roof above, sounding like thousands of tiny drumbeats.
Marco held Mia tightly against his chest, using her tiny body as a human shield while pointing his gun at her temple. His hand was shaking violently. He was a professional killer, but he had never faced Alessandro Moretti with his sight restored.
“Back off!” Marco screamed, backing toward the edge of the shipping dock where the dark sea churned twenty feet below. “Back off or I drop us both into the bay!”
Elena sobbed silently from her chair, her eyes pleading with Alessandro. “Save her... please, Alessandro, save my baby...”
Alessandro didn't move an inch. He kept his gun trained on Marco’s head, but he knew he couldn't take the shot. The hitman was holding Mia too close; a fraction of an inch off, and the bullet would strike the child.
“Marco,” Alessandro spoke, his voice unnaturally calm, steady, and hypnotic. “Look at me.”
Marco’s eyes flicked to Alessandro’s face.
“You’ve worked for the Romano family for ten years,” Alessandro continued, stepping forward half an inch—so subtly Marco barely noticed. “You know how I operate. If you kill that child, I won't just kill you. I will hunt down every person who shares your last name. I will erase your family from the registry.”
“I’m dead anyway!” Marco yelled, his grip tightening on Mia.
Mia felt the man’s hands shaking. She looked across the floor at Alessandro—at the tall, handsome man who gave her dried fruit and let her play in his library.
She saw his eyes. They weren't dark and hidden anymore. They were blue, shining like bright stars in the dark warehouse.
She remembered her little flashlight.
Look, Don Sandro!
Mia raised her small right hand. She didn't aim at Marco’s chest. She aimed her tiny yellow flashlight straight into Marco Rossi’s left eye.
She pressed the squeaky button down with all the strength in her tiny thumb.
CLICK.
A sharp, narrow beam of white-yellow light flashed directly into Marco’s dilated pupil from two inches away.
In the dim light of the warehouse, the sudden flash blinded Marco instantly.
“Gah!” Marco gasped, his head instinctively jerking backward as his vision went completely white.
That split second was all Alessandro needed.
Alessandro fired.
CRACK.
A single bullet tore through the air, passing half an inch above Mia’s dark curls, striking Marco Rossi directly between his eyes.
Marco’s grip loosened instantly. He collapsed backward over the dock edge, falling thirty feet into the dark, churning waters of the bay with a heavy splash.
Mia tumbled toward the edge of the concrete dock.
Alessandro dropped his gun, lunged forward across the slick concrete, and caught Mia by her arms just as she slid toward the drop.
He pulled her up into his chest, wrapping his heavy arms around her small body, holding her tight against his heart.
Mia buried her face into his wet tactical jacket, letting out a small, tired breath.
“I got him with the light, Don Sandro,” Mia whispered softly against his collar.
May you like
Alessandro closed his eyes, a single tear cutting through the gunpowder residue on his cheek.
“You got him, little lion,” Alessandro choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “You saved us all.”
