Page 92 of Inferno
‘You see, Sophie,’ said Donata, ‘Elena has always been calculated, cautious…predictable.’ I could feel the smile in her last sentence. ‘Gianluca Falcone is every bit his mother’s son. He will always place himself where the threat is greatest. And that’s how I know he’s outside that door right now.’
As if in answer, the door clanged again and this time a hinge crumbled.
Donata’s laugh rang out. ‘The underboss is Valentino’s highest protection. He only comes out of his brother’s shadow when he knows real, palpable danger is near. Caution has brought him here tonight, and his predictabilitywill get him killed.’
I shut my eyes tight. Luca wouldn’t leave Valentino in the middle of a blood war.
There’s noway.
We were facing the caving metal doorway from across the kitchen. Behind us the passage was free, safe from the destruction Jack was cultivating. As the full horror of their plan crystallized before me, Jack’s psychotic laugh surged through the kitchen, rising up with the gas.
‘Come on in, boys!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVETHE EXPLOSION
I knocked my head backwards, smashing it against Donata’s collarbone.
‘Stop it,’ she hissed, wrangling me against her. ‘Or I’ll split your head against the stove and leave you here to burn with your boyfriends. If you’re not with us, you’re against us.’
Across the room, my mother stumbled to her feet, one hand clamped on her head and the other clutching her stomach. Watching the glazed expression on her face and the way her mouth was twisting with pain, I felt only dread.
‘Sophie?’ she slurred. She barely reacted to the fact that I was being restrained by Donata Marino. She double-blinked, flinching. ‘What is this?’
Her eyes grew as she noticed the acrid smell. She sniffed the air, her lip curling. ‘Oh,’ she gasped, whirling on Jack.‘What are you doing?’ She staggered past my uncle, making a beeline for the stove.
Another metallic thump sounded and the floor reverberated. The lock on the door came unhinged.
My mother reached one of the burners. Jack dived at her. He grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her backwards, slamming her head against the island. She slid to the ground, leaving a streak of blood against the wood.
I screamed so hard into Donata’s hand that I almost suffocated myself. My knees buckled but she held me up, propped against her.
Jack yanked the gas line out from behind the stove and ripped it from the wall. It popped with a hiss and the air around it started furrowing. Coughing with violent force, Jack grabbed me and pulled me backwards, floundering across the kitchen, away from the fumes as they surged around us.
Donata took the duffel bag and retreated into the serving section as my uncle crushed me against him. My mother was lying in a sprawled heap between the stove and the island.
‘Let me go!’ I shrieked. ‘Let me help her!’
He held me inside the kitchen doorway, our backs to the diner, our faces to the metal door as it swung open. Through the thickness of the gas, Luca and Nic appeared in the doorway and every shred of hope inside me shrivelled up and died.
The alleyway stretched into the darkness behind them, where the dumpster had been tipped on its side. Trash was strewn everywhere. Wind and rain swept into the room, and the raging storm grew piercing and loud around us.
The Falcone brothers raised their guns.
In a flash, Jack manoeuvred me in front of him until I could feel his chin against my head, his noisy exhales rippling through my hair. ‘Go on,’ said Jack. ‘Shoot at us, why don’t you?’
Luca lowered his gun.
Nic hesitated.
The moment seemed to stretch interminably. In that instant, when even the thunder seemed to quell, my whole life rested at the mercy of Nic Falcone’s trigger finger. I looked inside the barrel of his gun, studying those two black circles, one delicately poised above the other, and felt the nearness of my own death.
‘Nicolò,’ warned Luca.
Nic’s arm was twitching. ‘I can still get him.’
‘Nicolò.’
My eyes were spiking with tears. ‘The gas,’ I rasped. ‘The gas is on.’
