Chapter 11 - THE SHOT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
“Mom!”
My scream tore through the frozen street.
Dominic grabbed me before I could fall.
Detective Whitmore shouted for everyone to get down.
Another shot struck the doorframe.
Wood splintered.
Dominic pulled me behind a parked SUV.
“Stay down!”
“My mother!”
“I know.”
“She needs help!”
Sarah's officers moved toward the house while another team searched for the shooter.
I could hear sirens.
Someone shouting.
Then Dominic's phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
He glanced at the screen.
His father.
Dominic answered.
“You son of a—”
Vittorio interrupted.
“Such an emotional reunion.”
Dominic's face changed.
“You ordered this.”
“I warned you.”
“If she dies—”
“You'll do what?”
Dominic looked toward the house.
For the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear that he couldn't save us.
Vittorio continued.
“Bring me the memory card tonight. Midnight. The old shipping terminal.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“And Lily?”
“Alive. For now.”
My heart stopped.
“Let me speak to her!” I shouted.
There was silence.
Then Lily's frightened voice came through.
“Emily?”
“Lucy?”
She began crying.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
“I don't care about that. Are you hurt?”
“No. But he says—”
The phone was taken away.
Vittorio returned.
“Midnight, Dominic.”
The call ended.
A paramedic ran toward us.
“She's alive!”
I almost collapsed with relief.
My mother had been shot in the shoulder.
She was conscious.
Bleeding.
But alive.
As they carried her toward the ambulance, she reached for me.
“Emily.”
I held her hand.
“Don't talk, Mom.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I'm so sorry.”
“We'll talk later.”
She shook her head.
“Listen.”
I leaned closer.
“Your sister doesn't know everything.”
“What?”
My mother's fingers tightened around mine.
“Vittorio didn't take Lucy because of the ledger.”
I stared at her.
“Then why?”
She looked toward Dominic.
Something like fear crossed her face.
“Because Lucy saw who started the fire.”
My breath caught.
“Who?”
My mother tried to answer.
But her eyes rolled back.
The paramedic moved between us.
“We need to go.”
I stepped away as the ambulance doors closed.
Dominic wrapped his coat around my shoulders.
“We're going to get her back,” he said.
“Which one?”
He looked at me.
“Both.”
Detective Whitmore approached.
“We found the shooter's position. He's gone, but he left something.”
She held up an evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
A younger Dominic standing beside Vittorio.
On the back, someone had written:
THE WRONG SON TOOK THE BLAME.
May you like
Dominic stared at it.
Then he whispered, “My brother.”
