Chapter 5 - The Dead Man Who Came Home
Samuel Cole arrived in Chicago shortly after midnight.
He was sixty-three now.
Thinner.
Gray-haired.
Living under the name Samuel Carter in a small town outside Green Bay.
For three years, only Matteo and one attorney had known he was alive.
When Samuel entered the Falcone study, his hands trembled.
“You said Adrian was safe.”
Matteo stood behind the desk.
“I thought he was.”
“You promised me.”
“I know.”
Samuel slammed both palms down.
“My son thinks I’m dead!”
“Yes.”
“Because you made me leave without telling him!”
“Because the men trying to frame you had already paid someone to kill him too.”
Samuel’s anger collapsed into confusion.
“What?”
Matteo opened an old file.
Inside were photographs.
Bank records.
Intercepted messages.
Samuel read them.
His face went white.
“Why didn’t you show me?”
“You were supposed to disappear for six months.”
Matteo looked away.
“Then my father’s old faction started a war. Six months became a year. Then your wife got sick.”
Samuel sat.
“I kept waiting for the right time.”
Matteo’s voice turned bitter.
“I’m very good at telling myself I’ll fix things later.”
He looked toward the window.
“It appears later has arrived all at once.”
Samuel studied him.
“You love her.”
Matteo did not answer.
Samuel laughed sadly.
“That’s the problem with powerful men. You think love is something people should understand without you having to behave like it.”
Matteo looked at him.
Samuel continued.
“I was married thirty-six years before Mary died. You know what she taught me?”
“What?”
“You can love somebody and still make their life miserable.”
The sentence landed hard.
Samuel leaned forward.
“Love doesn’t excuse damage.”
Matteo thought of Clara in the garage.
No coat.
No phone.
No protection.
His humiliation suddenly seemed ridiculous.
Tiny.
Childish.
He had risked everything because he wanted to win an argument.
“I need Adrian to see you.”
Samuel’s eyes filled.
“Bring me to him.”
Meanwhile, Adrian sat outside Clara’s room holding an old photograph of his father.
Victor’s story had always been simple.
Samuel discovered Falcone corruption.
Samuel threatened to testify.
Matteo ordered him killed.
Victor had produced bank transfers and a recording.
Adrian had believed it because grief wanted simplicity.
Good man.
Bad man.
Murder.
Revenge.
Clara had made it complicated.
She sat on the other side of the door.
Adrian entered.
“You’re moving again.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Why?”
“Victor thinks Matteo found this location.”
Clara stood.
Her palm had been wrapped in gauze.
“You could let me go.”
“And get killed before you reach the street?”
“Come with me.”
He laughed.
“To Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband would shoot me before I could say hello.”
“Probably.”
“Very comforting.”
“But I can stop him.”
Adrian stared at her.
“You really believe that?”
Clara thought about it.
“No.”
That surprised him.
“But I can try.”
He looked away.
“You should hate him.”
“I’m furious with him.”
“That’s not the same.”
Clara stepped closer.
“You think because I love Matteo, I have to pretend he didn’t hurt me?”
Adrian said nothing.
“I don’t.”
Her voice shook.
“He left me in the rain because his pride mattered more than my safety.”
She swallowed.
“I may never forgive him.”
“Yet you’re trying to save him.”
“I’m trying to stop more people from dying.”
Adrian rubbed his face.
“Victor won’t stop.”
“Then help me.”
The lights suddenly went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Adrian pulled his gun.
A second later emergency lights flashed red.
Men shouted outside.
Victor’s voice echoed down the corridor.
“Move her!”
Adrian grabbed Clara.
They entered the hallway.
Gunshots cracked somewhere in the building.
Clara flinched.
“Is that Matteo?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Falcone teams wouldn’t attack blind.”
A man ran toward them.
“Police scanner caught activity nearby. Somebody tripped an external sensor.”
Victor appeared.
“Vehicle three.”
They rushed through the rear exit.
Clara was shoved into an SUV.
Victor climbed in beside her.
Adrian entered the front.
They sped away.
Two miles later, Victor’s phone rang.
He answered.
Then his face hardened.
“What?”
Adrian looked in the mirror.
Victor listened.
“Impossible.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Adrian asked.
Victor stared at him.
“Falcone has Samuel.”
Adrian froze.
“My father?”
Victor realized his mistake immediately.
Adrian turned fully.
“What did you say?”
“I said Falcone has something belonging to Samuel.”
“No.”
Adrian’s voice became dangerous.
“You said Samuel.”
Victor reached inside his coat.
Adrian drew first.
“Hands where I can see them.”
The driver swerved.
Clara grabbed the door handle.
Locked.
Victor slowly raised his hands.
“You’re confused.”
“Is my father alive?”
“Adrian.”
“Is my father alive?”
Victor smiled.
That smile answered everything.
Adrian looked as if someone had stabbed him.
“You lied.”
“I gave you purpose.”
“You told me Matteo killed him.”
“I told you what you needed to hear.”
Adrian’s gun shook.
Victor moved.
Everything happened at once.
Victor slammed Adrian’s wrist against the seat.
The gun fired.
The driver panicked.
The SUV crossed lanes.
Clara screamed.
They struck the median.
Glass exploded.
Metal screamed.
The vehicle rolled.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped upside down.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Clara hung from her seat belt.
Blood ran into her hair.
She heard Adrian groaning.
The driver did not move.
Victor crawled through the broken side window.
Clara reached for the buckle.
It released.
She fell onto the ceiling.
“Adrian.”
He was trapped.
“Go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Clara!”
She pulled at his belt.
Outside, Victor disappeared toward an alley.
Sirens sounded somewhere distant.
Adrian finally dropped free.
His left arm hung strangely.
“Broken?”
“Probably.”
They crawled from the wreck.
Clara’s bare feet hit wet pavement.
She looked around.
Industrial buildings.
Rail tracks.
A distant skyline.
“Which way?”
Adrian pointed.
“North.”
They ran.
Or tried.
Clara’s body screamed with every step.
Adrian stumbled beside her.
Behind them came a shout.
Victor had returned with two men.
“There!”
Adrian pulled Clara behind a parked truck.
Bullets struck metal.
Clara covered her head.
Adrian fired twice.
One man dropped.
They moved again.
Then headlights exploded across the street.
Three black vehicles entered from the opposite end.
Clara froze.
Doors opened.
Men emerged.
Guns raised.
Adrian lifted his weapon.
Clara saw the man stepping from the center SUV.
Matteo.
Everything inside her stopped.
He looked worse than she had ever seen him.
Unshaven.
Shirt wrinkled.
Eyes hollow.
For one heartbeat, they simply stared at each other across the street.
“Clara.”
Her name left him like a prayer.
She took one step.
Victor appeared behind her.
An arm locked around her neck.
A gun pressed against her temple.
Matteo stopped.
“Put it down,” Victor shouted.
Every Falcone weapon remained aimed at him.
Matteo raised his hands.
“Let her go.”
“Gun.”
Matteo slowly removed his pistol and placed it on the pavement.
“Kneel.”
Thaddeus cursed.
Matteo did not hesitate.
The most feared man in Chicago lowered himself onto both knees in the rain.
Clara stared.
Victor laughed.
“There he is.”
Matteo ignored him.
His eyes stayed on Clara.
“Are you hurt?”
She almost laughed at the absurdity.
“Matteo.”
“I’m sorry.”
Victor shoved the gun harder against her head.
“You can apologize in hell.”
Then Adrian stepped from behind the truck.
“Victor.”
Victor looked.
Adrian aimed with his good arm.
“You lied to me.”
Victor smiled.
“You’re emotional.”
“My father is alive.”
Matteo answered.
“Yes.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Where?”
“In my house.”
Victor’s expression changed.
Adrian’s eyes filled.
For one second, his gun dipped.
Victor fired.
The bullet hit Adrian in the chest.
Clara screamed.
Falcone gunfire erupted.
Victor dragged Clara backward.
Matteo launched himself from the pavement.
A bullet tore through Victor’s shoulder.
His grip loosened.
Clara twisted free.
Matteo reached her.
He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest as bullets cracked around them.
She felt his heart pounding.
Felt him shaking.
Matteo Falcone was shaking.
“Clara.”
He touched her hair, her face, her shoulders.
“You’re alive.”
She stared at him.
Then slapped him.
Hard.
Everyone nearby went silent.
Matteo took it.
Clara’s tears mixed with rain.
“You left me.”
“I know.”
She hit his chest.
“You left me.”
“I know.”
Again.
“You left me!”
Matteo caught her wrists only to stop her hurting herself.
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I know, baby.”
Clara collapsed against him, sobbing.
Matteo held her.
Not as a boss.
Not as a king.
As a man who had almost lost everything.
Behind them, Victor Dane disappeared into the maze of alleys.
And when Matteo finally looked up, he knew the war was nowhere near finished.
Because Victor had escaped.
And Adrian Cole lay bleeding in the street with one final warning on his lips.
“Thaddeus.”
Matteo leaned closer.
May you like
Adrian coughed blood.
“Don’t trust… Thaddeus.”
