Chapter 158
The sound of gunshots in the distance made me freeze for a second. My eyes widened, and my entire body went on alert. But unlike other times, I didn't panic. I'd seen hell before—and now, I just wanted to get out of it with Rafael in my arms.
"Someone's coming," I whispered tensely, and everyone ran to the back of the van without hesitation.
We ducked together behind the heavy bodywork. The van felt like a makeshift shelter, and the cold floor beneath my knees reminded me how real this was.
My eyes fell on a broken mirror on the floor next to me. Shattered, dirty, but still reflective. And it was through it that I saw.
Four men. Armed. Approaching.
"Vincenzo…" I called softly, pointing my chin at the reflection.
He turned instantly. His eyes fixed on the mirror, as if sharp blades were slicing through the image. And then he saw it too.
The four of them splitting up. Two going right, two left. The typical ambush formation.
"They're going to surround us," Nancy murmured, gripping my arm tightly.
She was trembling. Her breath was coming in short, almost gasping breaths. I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly, trying to convey some of the calm I hadn't even known I possessed.
"It's going to be okay," I whispered in her ear, even though I didn't know it was true.
Vincenzo's two bodyguards drew their guns and positioned themselves. One on each side of the van, ready. Their pistols were steady in their hands, their gazes trained. They seemed part of Vincenzo, as if they were extensions of his mind.
One of the bodyguards approached and handed him a pistol.
"Just like old times, boss."
Vincenzo didn't even respond. He took the gun naturally. As if it were an ancient ritual, ingrained in him.
With a subtle nod, he gave the order.
The three of them stood up at the same time, as if they had rehearsed this scene. A quick, precise movement.
Four dry shots.
One. Two. Three. Four.
And suddenly, silence.
I waited a few more seconds, hugging Nancy, my heart pounding in my ear.
No more shots. No screams. Just the sound of the light wind blowing through the surrounding trees.
Vincenzo said something, but I didn't understand. His voice was firm, authoritative, but controlled. Nancy looked at me, confused.
"Why is he talking to them?"
"They're alive," I whispered, understanding dawning. "He didn't want to kill. He wants answers."
I slowly pulled away from the embrace and walked around the back of the van. Vincenzo was standing, staring at the four men on the ground. Each one groaned in pain, but all were conscious. The bullets had been strategic. Legs, shoulders. Enough to disarm, but not enough to kill.
He crouched down in front of one of them, his eyes as cold as steel.
"Where's my son?"
Vincenzo was kneeling in front of the first man. The henchman groaned, his hand pressed against his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. But even wounded, he kept his jaw set, as if to prove he wouldn't say anything.
"I'll ask you just once," Vincenzo's voice was low, dangerous. "Where's the boy?"
Nothing. The man looked away, taking a deep breath, his pride wounded even more than his body.
Vincenzo slowly got up and walked over to the second man, who had been shot in the leg. He crouched down in front of him calmly, like someone about to make a business proposition—but the proposition was clear: speak or bleed more.
"You were paid to ambush us, I know. But the Yakuza don't usually send just any trash to do their dirty work." So... who's with Rafael? Where is he?
The second man hesitated, looking at the other three, as if seeking permission, or courage. Vincenzo noticed.
"Tell me. I promise no one will shoot again if you tell me what I want to know."
"He... he's in a warehouse..." the man choked out, spitting blood. "Near Kanagawa Bay... it's a disused port. There's a red flag at the entrance. It's there. He's there."
Nancy and I stood behind the van, watching everything. She still held my arm, but now with less force. I could see in her eyes the same thing I probably saw in mine: shock.
"My God..." she murmured. "How does he know how to do that? How can he be so calm?"
"Because he's been through this before," I replied, without taking my eyes off Vincenzo.
He stood and looked at the two security guards.
"Tie up the four of them." Bandage them so they don't bleed to death. But keep them out of reach. We'll take them to the nearest police station later.
One of the security guards nodded, already opening a tactical backpack with bandages and rope.
Vincenzo turned to me.
His eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw beyond the ex-mobster. I saw the father. The desperate man. But at the same time, I saw the strength that made him who he was.
He came to me and hugged me. Tight. As if the world were falling apart, but as long as I was there, he could hold on.
"This is just the beginning, Rachel," he whispered. in my ear. "But now I know where he is."
"And now we're going all the way," I replied, squeezing him back. "Together."
Nancy cleared her throat behind us, a little awkwardly.
"I know this isn't the best time for jokes... but someone should tell the Japanese mafia that messing with an Italian is asking for a ride."
Nancy looked at the four mobsters tied up on the floor and said:
"Guys, if I were in the mafia, I'd definitely quit at the first shootout. I wasn't born for this. I was born for spas and drama."
One of the security guards looked at her confused, and she simply added:
"I'm trying to lighten the mood, sir. This is like a season finale."
Then she pulled me aside and whispered:
"If someone films this, it'll easily be a top-10 on Netflix. But I demand better makeup, okay?" Because if they kill me badly, I'll come back to haunt them.
I almost laughed out loud. Almost.
I laughed, even though my eyes were still teary. Because despite everything, despite the fear, I knew we now had a real chance.
We were going to get Rafael out of there.
Even if it took blood, bullets... and all hell on our backs.
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