PART 8 – Trapped on Holy Ground
Lorenzo’s voice echoed uncomfortably hollow against the stone walls of the old chapel. "I knew you were smarter than you looked, Emma," his footsteps sounded closer. "Did you really think you could outsmart us?" Elena and I instinctively dived behind the stone altar. My hands clutched frantically at the copper chest I had just pulled from the niche.
The metal was ice cold, but its weight gave me a sense of hope. Something heavy was inside. Perhaps documents, perhaps physical proof that could expose the Moretti family for good. "Come out, Emma!" Lorenzo called out louder now, and we heard the sound of a safety catch being clicked off on a firearm. The metal click-clack cut through the silence. "Hand that chest over to me, and no one has to get hurt today.
Your father made all his choices decades ago. Don't try to repeat his mistakes." "Where is he?" I called back, standing up from behind the altar. Elena tried to hold me back, but I pulled my hand free. I looked straight into the eyes of Lorenzo, who walked into the chapel with two armed men at his side. Lorenzo smiled scornfully. "Your father isn't important, child.
What's important is the empire your family tried to destroy. That bank card your mother used back then to flee... she thought she took everything, but she forgot the most important piece of evidence." He pointed his gun at the chest in my hands. "Open it." "No," I said resolutely. Lorenzo nodded to one of his henchmen. The man stepped forward, grabbed Elena by the arm, and pressed the barrel of his gun against her temple.
"Open. That. Chest," Lorenzo said, his voice now deadly serious. My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Elena, whose eyes were wide with pure terror. I couldn't risk her life. With trembling hands, I lifted the copper lid off the chest. The lid came off with a heavy sigh. Inside lay no dossier. There was an old mechanical recording device with a cassette tape on it, and on top of that... an official document bearing the seal of the Italian Ministry of Justice, signed by a public prosecutor twenty-five years ago.
Lorenzo stepped up quickly, grabbed the document, and began to read. The color drained completely from his face in seconds. All his arrogance melted like snow in the sun. "This... this is impossible..." he stammered. And at that exact moment, a loud siren sound rang out from outside, echoing through the mountains, followed by the sound of multiple approaching police cars.
