He Thoughttt Taking His Maid to the Gala Would Be a Joke—Until Every Man in the Room Turned to Look at Her

Julian raised the barrel, aiming directly between Raphael’s eyes.

Raphael lay against the wall, clutching his bleeding side, his breath wheezing through punctured ribs. His pistol lay four feet away, covered in burning debris.

"You threw away an entire empire," Julian sneered, stepping closer. "For what? Some backwoods whore and a bastard kid?"

The word had barely left Julian’s lips when a shadow appeared in the doorway of the walk-in freezer.

Marin had not run down the creek.

She had sent Clara and Leo ahead into the woods, but she could not leave. She had returned through the tunnel, creeping through the smoke-filled kitchen like a ghost born of the North End alleys.

In her hands, she held the twelve-gauge hunting shotgun Clara kept behind the meat hooks.

"Do not speak about my son," Marin said.

Julian spun around in surprise, but he was too late.

Marin pulled the trigger.

The blast took Julian Moretti in the chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward through the diner’s shattered front window, dead before his body hit the mud outside.

The surviving syndicate runners, seeing their leader obliterated and hearing the approaching sirens of the Maine State Police, scrambled back into their remaining SUV and tore down Route 201 in a panic.

The diner fell into deafening silence, save for the crackle of burning pine wood.

Marin dropped the shotgun. She fell to her knees beside Raphael, her hands frantically pressing against the dark blood soaking his wool coat.

"Raphael! Look at me! Stay with me!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, mixing with soot and blood. "Don't you close your eyes!"

Raphael looked up at her through a haze of gray smoke. He smiled weakly, his bloody fingers reaching up to brush against her wrist.

"You... came back," he whispered, coughing up a spatter of crimson.

"Of course I came back, you idiot!" she sobbed, pressing her apron against his shredded side. "You think I’d let you die in my diner? Gideon! Help! Gideon!"

Gideon stumbled through the ruined entrance, his own arm bleeding from a graze, his phone pressed to his ear. "Medevac is ten minutes out. State police are escorting them."

Raphael looked up into Marin’s hazel eyes. "Marin... the boy... is he safe?"

"He’s with Clara in the woods. He’s safe. We’re both safe," she said, leaning down, pressing her forehead against his. "Hold on, Raphael. Please. Hold on for us."

Raphael’s hand gripped hers with the last ounce of his strength. "I kept... the notebook... in my desk... Every day... I counted..."