Chapter 8 - The House That Burned TwiceMolly knew where Salvatore would go.
Her childhood home.
The property had been rebuilt after the fire, sold twice, then abandoned after foreclosure.
It stood in Queens behind a rusted fence.
Gerardo was still legally restricted from leaving Manhattan.
Molly did not tell him where she was going.
That mistake lasted twelve minutes.
His black SUV pulled beside her cab.
Gerardo stepped out.
She stared.
“Aren't you under supervision?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I have an excellent lawyer.”
“You're unbelievable.”
“You're going toward a man trying to kill you.”
“I have Marco.”
“I have Marco too.”
Marco exited the SUV looking exhausted.
“Could both of you argue after nobody is being hunted?”
The old Warner house smelled of mold.
Molly stepped through the doorway.
Memories returned violently.
Her father's laughter.
Her mother's perfume.
Smoke.
Heat.
A firefighter carrying her outside.
Then a light appeared upstairs.
Salvatore.
He stood in what had once been Molly's bedroom.
“Come up alone.”
Gerardo grabbed her wrist.
“No.”
Molly looked at him.
“He wants the evidence.”
“He wants you.”
“He can't have either.”
She climbed the stairs.
Salvatore waited beside the cracked window.
He looked older now.
Not powerful.
Just tired.
“You have your mother's eyes,” he said.
“People keep telling me things about my parents right before threatening me.”
“You think I'm the villain.”
“You burned my house.”
“I ordered your father frightened.”
“He died.”
“That was Keane.”
Molly stared.
Salvatore continued.
“Keane panicked. James threatened to go federal. I told him to retrieve the documents.”
“So you're innocent?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Salvatore laughed bitterly.
“I spent fifty years explaining my sins until they sounded like somebody else's decisions.”
He looked toward the doorway.
“Gerardo will do the same eventually.”
“No.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
“You know what he lets you see.”
“And I know what you showed everyone.”
Salvatore's expression hardened.
“There it is. James's mouth.”
He drew a pistol.
Molly's pulse accelerated.
“Where's the microfilm?”
“Somewhere you'll never reach.”
“Wrong answer.”
Gerardo's voice came from behind.
Salvatore spun.
Gerardo stood in the doorway.
Unarmed.
“Let her go.”
Salvatore laughed.
“The great Gerardo Romani.”
“Your problem is with me.”
“My problem has always been your father.”
“He's dead.”
“And he still haunts everything.”
Salvatore's hand shook.
Then Molly understood.
This empire had never been about money.
It was resentment.
Gerardo's father had been chosen to lead the family.
Salvatore had not.
Everything afterward had been his attempt to rewrite that humiliation.
“You killed all those people because your brother got the chair you wanted,” Molly said.
Salvatore looked at her.
That second was enough.
Gerardo moved.
The gun fired.
Molly screamed.
Gerardo struck Salvatore's wrist.
The weapon slid across the floor.
Marco rushed inside with federal agents behind him.
Salvatore was pinned down.
Molly turned toward Gerardo.
Blood spread across his shirt.
“No.”
He looked down.
The bullet had entered high near his shoulder.
“Molly.”
“No.”
She pressed both hands against the wound.
“You're fine.”
“I know.”
“You don't know.”
“I've been shot before.”
“This isn't the moment to brag.”
Sirens filled the street.
As paramedics carried Gerardo downstairs, Salvatore was brought out in handcuffs.
For the first time, Molly saw him afraid.
Not of Gerardo.
Not of prison.
Of irrelevance.
She stepped toward him.
“My father spent seventeen years dead because of you.”
Salvatore said nothing.
“You made my mother run until running destroyed her. You made me believe poverty was some punishment I inherited.”
His expression remained cold.
Molly smiled faintly.
“But here's the part you didn't understand.”
She looked toward Gerardo.
“You failed.”
Salvatore was placed inside the federal vehicle.
The door slammed.
Molly climbed into the ambulance beside Gerardo.
His face was pale.
“Did we win?” he murmured.
“Don't be dramatic.”
“I've been shot.”
“You said you've been shot before.”
“That was before I had someone to complain to.”
She laughed through tears.
May you like
Gerardo reached for her hand.
For once, she let him hold it.
