Chapter 9 - I Saved the Man Everyone Called a Monster
Victor chose a church.
Of all places.
An abandoned Catholic church in South Philadelphia that the Moretti family had funded decades earlier.
Symbolism mattered to men like Victor.
So did ego.
Police established surveillance.
Gabriel wore a wire.
The evidence Victor demanded was fake.
Nico was somewhere inside.
I was supposed to stay in the command van.
That lasted six minutes.
Gunfire erupted.
Then radio traffic collapsed.
One officer shouted that Victor had moved Nico through a basement tunnel.
Gabriel followed.
Of course he did.
I saw him disappear on camera.
Then the feed cut.
I left the van.
Torres swore at me through the headset.
“Elena, get back here.”
“No.”
“You are a nurse.”
“Exactly.”
The church basement smelled of damp concrete and old incense.
I found Nico first.
Tied to a pipe.
Conscious.
“Please tell me you're real.”
“Unfortunately.”
I cut the restraints.
“Where's your father?”
Nico pointed toward the tunnel.
“He went after Victor.”
Naturally.
We heard a shot.
Then another.
I told Nico to stay.
He followed me.
Apparently disobedience was hereditary.
Gabriel lay near a service door.
Blood spread across his shirt.
My body reacted before my mind.
Pressure.
Assessment.
Breathing.
Entry wound near his upper abdomen.
No obvious exit.
He was conscious.
Barely.
“Elena.”
“Don't talk.”
“Nico?”
“Alive.”
His eyes closed.
I slapped his cheek lightly.
“No.”
He opened them.
“You just hit me.”
“You'll survive the humiliation.”
Nico dropped beside us.
“Dad.”
Gabriel looked at him.
No lecture.
No anger.
Just relief.
Sirens approached.
Victor had escaped again.
I did not care.
For the next twenty minutes, Gabriel Moretti was not a mafia boss.
He was a bleeding man on concrete.
And I was a nurse.
At the hospital, trauma surgeons took him immediately.
I waited.
Nico paced.
His hands shook.
“You saved him.”
“Not yet.”
“He came because of me.”
“Yes.”
“I keep doing this.”
I looked at him.
“Doing what?”
“Making people clean up after me.”
That was the most self-aware thing I'd heard him say.
“So stop.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You make everything sound easy.”
“No.”
I folded my arms.
“I make it sound like a choice.”
He looked toward the operating-room doors.
“What if he dies?”
“Then you'll grieve.”
“And?”
“And still be responsible for who you become next.”
He stared at me.
Maybe that was what nobody had ever told him.
Hours later, Gabriel survived surgery.
I was allowed into recovery because Nico insisted.
Gabriel opened his eyes.
Saw me.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“Victor?”
“Gone.”
“Nico?”
“Outside.”
He relaxed.
Then winced.
“Don't move.”
“You're very bossy for someone unemployed.”
I stared at him.
His mouth twitched.
“You're flirting while on narcotics.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
I tried not to smile.
Failed.
Then his expression changed.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“If something happens to me—”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“I spend my career telling people what to do. I hate role reversal.”
“Nico can't inherit what I built.”
That surprised me.
“He thinks he can.”
“I know.”
“He can't.”
“Because he's reckless?”
“Because the organization will turn every wound he has into a weapon.”
I understood.
“And you?”
He looked at the ceiling.
“I should have left years ago.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Fear.”
I waited.
“Not of dying,” he said. “Of what filled the space if I walked away.”
Victor.
Men like him.
Criminal systems did not evaporate because one leader developed a conscience.
“What if you dismantled it instead?”
Gabriel laughed, then immediately regretted it because of the stitches.
“You say that like closing a restaurant.”
“I know it isn't.”
“You'd make enemies everywhere.”
“You already have enemies everywhere.”
Fair.
He looked at me.
“What would you do?”
“I'm a trauma nurse.”
“That has never stopped you from telling me what to do.”
I thought about it.
“Save what can be made legitimate.”
“And the rest?”
“Turn it over.”
“To law enforcement.”
“Yes.”
“I would go to prison.”
“Maybe.”
“You make an appealing sales pitch.”
“I don't sell fantasies.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then he reached for my hand.
Weakly.
I let him.
“You really aren't afraid of me.”
“I am.”
That surprised him.
“I just don't think fear should make my decisions.”
His thumb moved once against my knuckles.
The room felt smaller.
Then Nico walked in.
He saw our hands.
Stopped.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
I pulled away.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Nico.”
“No. I have had a terrible week. I cannot add this.”
I laughed.
Gabriel smiled.
It was absurd.
And human.
Then Torres entered holding an evidence bag.
Inside was the bullet removed from Gabriel.
“Ballistics came back.”
His smile vanished.
“The weapon that fired this belongs to one of your registered security men.”
“Who?”
Torres looked at Nico.
“Marco DeLuca.”
Nico went pale.
Marco had protected him since he was sixteen.
He had been there the night Nico stormed my trauma bay.
May you like
Which meant Victor's reach had been beside him from the beginning.
And suddenly the night I met Nico looked different again.
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