Chapter 2 - MARCO RUNS
Marco shoved Tony into a row of chairs and bolted for the side hallway.
“Stop him!” I shouted.
Two of my men lunged, but Marco was fast when fear drove him. He slammed his shoulder through a service door and vanished into the back corridor.
Bruno lifted his head, growled once, then looked at Elena.
He wanted to chase.
But he stayed.
That dog had more honor than most men I had known.
“Stay with her,” I told him.
Bruno lowered himself beside the coffin again like a guard at heaven’s door.
I ran after Marco.
The funeral home’s back hallway was narrow, lined with framed certificates and fake plants. Ahead, I heard a door crash open. Cold air rushed in from the alley.
Marco was halfway to a black SUV when I stepped outside.
“Marco!”
He froze for half a second.
Enough for me to see the gun in his hand.
“Don’t,” I said.
He turned, eyes wild. “You don’t understand, Dante.”
That was my name.
Dante Romano.
Men in Queens lowered their voices when they said it. But Marco said it like we were boys again, like history could save him from what he had done.
“You stood beside a child’s coffin,” I said. “You watched her parents bury her while she was still breathing.”
“I didn’t know she was alive!”
“But you knew something.”
His jaw tightened.
Behind me, Tony came out with blood on his lip and rage in his eyes.
Marco aimed the gun between us. “Back up.”
“You going to shoot me too?” I asked.
His hand shook.
That was the worst part. Marco had killed men without blinking. But now he shook because this was not business anymore. This was betrayal with a child’s name on it.
A siren wailed in the distance.
Marco heard it.
His face changed.
He fired once.
The bullet cracked the brick beside my head. Tony hit the ground. I drew my gun, but Marco was already in the SUV.
The engine screamed.
He reversed so fast he clipped a dumpster, then tore out of the alley.
Tony pushed himself up. “Boss, let me go after him.”
“No,” I said.
He stared at me like I had lost my mind.
“The girl comes first.”
Inside, the funeral home had become chaos. Chairs overturned. People crying. My men holding the doors open as paramedics rushed in.
Elena’s pulse was weak.
Too weak.
One medic shouted instructions. Another placed a tiny oxygen mask over her face.
Rosa tried to climb into the ambulance with her daughter, but her knees gave out.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
She looked at me with eyes that begged and accused at the same time.
“You did this,” she whispered.
I did not defend myself.
Because in a way, she was right.
May you like
My world had reached her child.
And now my world would pay.
