Page 73 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
Two black, armored SUVs gleam under the runway lights as we step off the plane. Marco is already waiting, a shadowy figure leaning casually against the passenger door of the nearest car, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter.
He straightens as we approach, nodding once. "Donna Maria’s orders—she’s to ride in the second vehicle," he says, his voice clipped.
Beside me, Valentina stiffens. I glance at her, then fix Marco with a steady gaze. "I travel with my wife and son," I say, leaving no room for debate. "If they’re in that SUV, so am I."
For a beat, silence hums like a taut wire. Then Marco’s grin slices through the tension. "Figured you’d say that," he says, pushing off the car. "No worries. The others can trail us."
No argument. Just action. Valentina and I move toward the SUV, the night pressing in around us like a held breath.
I give him a short nod as I help Valentina into the back seat, tucking Leo in beside her. She smiles faintly at me, though the exhaustion in her eyes is unmistakable. I close the door gently before taking my seat in the front. Marco slides in next to me, his ever-present sense of foreboding practically radiating from him.
The car glides down the coastal highway, its engine humming steadily as the evening lights twinkle in the distance. Valentina and Leo are in the backseat, their quiet murmurs occasionally drifting forward. I can’t help glancing in the rearview mirror every so often, catching glimpses of them. Valentina has her arm draped protectively around Leo, who’s clutching a little toy car he insisted on bringing.
I lean back against the cool leather, my mind restless despite the peaceful setting. Marco, sitting beside me in the front seat, is on edge, too—his sharp eyes constantly scanning the horizon.
And then it happens.
The car jerks suddenly, a sharp lurch that has Marco and me snapping forward.
“Brakes!” Marco growls, his voice cutting through the growing tension.
“What do you mean, brakes?” I demand.
The driver’s panicked voice comes next. “They’re not responding!”
The car picks up speed, the hum of the engine turning into a roar as we barrel down the highway. I glance back at Valentina, who’s gripping Leo tightly, her face pale but composed.
“Luca?” she asks, her voice thin and uncertain.
“Hold him close,” I bark, turning back to Marco. “Options?”
“There’s a sharp curve ahead,” Marco snaps, checking his phone. “If we don’t slow down, we’re going over the cliff.”
“Steady the wheel,” I order the driver. “Don’t panic. Keep us on the road as long as possible.”
Valentina’s voice rises from the back. “Luca, what’s happening?”
“Hold on,” I bite out, my mind racing.
The car veers slightly to the left, the driver fighting to keep it steady. Outside, the cliffs loom closer, the jagged rocks below promising certain death.
Marco pulls out his gun, his movements sharp and practiced. “Sabotage. Someone tampered with the brakes. This wasn’t an accident.”
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
I glance back at Valentina again, her wide eyes locking with mine. “It’s going to be fine,” I say, even though my gut twists with doubt.
“Luca!” she cries as the car swerves violently again, the tires screeching.
“Take the emergency gravel runoff!” Marco shouts.
The driver nods, yanking the wheel hard. The car careens toward the narrow gravel path carved into the side of the road for situations just like this.
The impact rattles every bone in my body as the car slams onto the gravel, the tires struggling for grip. Rocks fly in all directions, pinging against the undercarriage as the vehicle skids uncontrollably.
“Brace!” Marco yells.
I grab onto the dashboard as the car hurtles forward, slamming into the barrier at the end of the runoff with a bone-jarring crunch.
