Chapter 12 - THE CHILD WHO SAW TOO MUCHEmma Rossi did not understand guns.
She understood thunder. She understood angry voices. She understood when grown-ups smiled with mouths that did not match their eyes. She understood that her mother’s hands shook when danger was close.
But guns were too loud to be understood.
In the basement beneath the river church, she sat under a wooden table with her palms pressed over her ears while the ceiling cracked above her. Dust fell into her hair. Lucia cried in Isabella’s arms. Sophia held both girls as if her body could become a wall.
Sister Agnese barred the basement door with an old iron rod.
“This way,” Father Daniel said, pushing aside shelves stacked with donated blankets. “There’s a tunnel to the rectory.”
Isabella stood despite the baby in her arms and pain in every movement.
“Where does it exit?”
“Alley behind the fish market.”
“Too exposed.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You were shot at upstairs and you are critiquing exits?”
“I have been hunted for eight months, Father. I’ve become difficult about doors.”
Sophia almost laughed, then clapped a hand over her mouth because laughter felt illegal beneath gunfire.
Emma looked up.
“Is baby scared?”
Isabella crouched carefully and brought Lucia closer.
“Yes.”
Emma reached one tiny hand and touched Lucia’s foot.
“It’s okay. Your daddy is loud too.”
Isabella’s eyes filled again, but she blinked the tears away.
“We need to move.”
Sophia helped Emma out from under the table.
Then the child froze.
“What is it?” Sophia whispered.
Emma pointed toward the stacked boxes.
“Man.”
Everyone turned.
At first, there was nothing.
Then Father Daniel moved a blanket aside and found a narrow gap in the wall. Behind it, crouched in a service alcove, was a boy no older than twelve.
He was filthy, shaking, and holding a kitchen knife.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Mateo?”
The boy’s eyes filled with terror.
“Don’t send me back.”
Isabella stepped forward.
“Back where?”
The boy stared at Lucia.
His face changed.
“That’s the baby.”
Sophia’s breath caught.
“What baby?”
“The one Mr. Carlo wanted.” Mateo swallowed. “He said if we saw her, we tell him. He said she was worth more than all of us.”
Isabella’s expression became lethal.
Daniel spoke gently.
“Mateo, how did you get here?”
“I ran from the van.”
“What van?” Sophia asked.
The boy pointed upward, toward the street.
“They brought kids. From the place with blue beds.”
Briar House.
Sister Agnese whispered, “Dear God.”
“How many?” Isabella asked.
“Six. Maybe seven. They said the police were coming and they had to move us.”
“Where?”
Mateo looked at her, then toward Emma.
Children recognized one another’s fear.
“Warehouse by water,” he whispered. “But not the one with the loud men. Another one. With red doors.”
Isabella looked at Daniel.
“Carlo has a second site.”
Daniel nodded grimly.
Emma stepped closer to Mateo.
“Did bad man smile wrong?”
Mateo nodded.
“Silver hair?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at her mother.
“I told.”
Sophia pulled her close.
“You did.”
Above them, the gunfire slowed.
That was not necessarily good.
Sometimes fewer shots meant fewer living men.
Isabella handed Lucia to Sophia.
Sophia startled.
“Mrs. Conti—”
“Isabella.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” Isabella’s voice left no room for argument. “If I fall, you run with both girls. You do not stop. You do not look for me. You do not trust anyone who says Lorenzo sent them unless they know the words Emma whispered.”
Sophia’s eyes widened.
“Your baby is alive.”
Isabella nodded.
“That is the key now.”
Sophia held Lucia with one arm and Emma with the other.
The weight of it nearly broke her.
For six years, she had cleaned this family’s rooms and lowered her eyes. Now Isabella Conti was placing the last piece of the DeLuca bloodline in her arms.
Trust did not arrive softly.
It arrived like a crown made of fire.
The basement door shook.
Someone upstairs slammed against it.
Sister Agnese gripped the iron rod.
Daniel lifted an old shotgun from behind a cabinet.
Isabella looked at him.
“Priest?”
“Before seminary, Brooklyn.”
The door shook again.
Mateo whimpered.
Emma crawled toward him and took his hand.
“My bunny has a spy in it,” she said. “So we cut him open.”
Mateo stared at her, then laughed once through tears.
Children survived horror in strange ways.
The door splintered.
Daniel fired through it.
The man on the other side screamed.
Isabella grabbed the shotgun from him and fired the second barrel lower, blowing the lock apart before the intruder could push in.
Daniel stared at her.
She handed it back.
“Brooklyn,” she said, “is not what it used to be.”
Sophia hurried toward the tunnel with the children.
Isabella followed last, gun raised.
The passage was narrow and damp. Emma walked ahead with Mateo, both children gripping each other’s hands. Sophia kept Lucia against her chest. Sister Agnese moved surprisingly fast for a woman who had spent the night insulting armed men and outrunning death.
Halfway through the tunnel, they heard shouting behind them.
The attackers had found the basement.
“Go,” Isabella ordered.
Sophia moved faster.
The tunnel exited behind the fish market exactly as Daniel promised.
The alley was gray, wet, and empty.
Too empty.
Isabella realized it one heartbeat too late.
A black van turned the corner.
The side door slid open.
A man aimed at Sophia.
“No!” Isabella screamed.
Before the man fired, Emma let go of Mateo and ran.
Not away.
Toward the street.
Sophia screamed her daughter’s name.
Emma grabbed a loose metal trash can lid and hurled it with both hands.
It did not hit the gunman.
It hit the van’s headlight with a crash loud enough to startle him.
The shot went wide.
Isabella fired twice.
The gunman fell back into the van.
Daniel appeared from the alley behind them, shouting for everyone to move.
A car skidded to the curb.
Rocco leaned out.
“Get in!”
Sophia pushed Emma, Mateo, and Sister Agnese inside. Isabella climbed in with Lucia. Daniel jumped into the front seat.
The van reversed hard and disappeared down the street.
Rocco looked at Isabella through the mirror.
“Lorenzo is still inside.”
Her face went still.
Rocco added quickly, “Alive. Angry. Finishing.”
Isabella held Lucia close and closed her eyes for one second.
Then Emma spoke from beside her.
“The other kids are in red door.”
Rocco looked back.
“What?”
Mateo nodded.
“Warehouse with red doors.”
Isabella opened her eyes.
The mother in her wanted to go to Lorenzo.
The woman Carlo had failed to kill knew better.
If there were children still held somewhere by the water, then Lucia was not the only stolen life left to save.
She looked at Rocco.
“Find the red doors.”
Rocco hesitated.
“Lorenzo said—”
“Lorenzo is upstairs teaching men regret,” Isabella snapped. “I am telling you where Carlo keeps the children.”
Rocco stared at her in the mirror.
Then he smiled.
Not happily.
May you like
Proudly.
“Yes, ma’am
