Chapter 6: The Name They Buried
1770 Words
The car turned toward Saint Augustine Cathedral as rain struck the windows.
I stared at the photograph of Father Gabriel standing beside Noah. It had been taken recently, yet Dante claimed the priest had disappeared twenty-one years ago.
“How do you know this is really him?” I asked.
Dante kept his eyes on the road ahead. “I recognize him.”
“From where?”
“He was present the night you came to our family.”
My fingers tightened around the damaged recorder. “So you admit I wasn’t born a De Santis.”
“You are a De Santis.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It is the answer that matters.”
“To you, maybe.”
Luca sat beside me, pressing a handkerchief against his bleeding lip.
“Can we postpone the family argument until we aren’t being followed?” he asked.
I looked through the rear window. Two black vehicles remained behind us.
“Those are our guards.”
“The gray sedan behind them isn’t,” Luca replied.
Dante glanced toward the driver. “Take the next left.”
The car turned sharply. Our security vehicles followed, but the gray sedan continued straight ahead.
“Maybe it was nothing,” I said.
“In our family, nothing rarely follows us for six blocks,” Luca answered.
I looked at the photograph again. Noah’s expression was serious, while Father Gabriel appeared frightened.
“When was this taken?”
“The date is printed at the bottom,” Dante said.
“Three days ago.”
“Before Noah returned to Chicago,” Luca added.
A sick feeling formed in my stomach. “He knew Father Gabriel was alive.”
“Carter knows more than he has told you,” Dante said.
“So do you.”
His jaw tightened.
“At least Noah gave me a key,” I continued. “You gave me rules.”
“I gave you twenty-one years of safety.”
“You gave me someone else’s name.”
Silence filled the car.
Luca lowered the handkerchief. “Ellie—”
“What is my real name?”
Neither brother answered.
“You both know.”
Dante finally turned toward me. “A name will not change who you are.”
“Then why are you so afraid to say it?”
“Because the moment that name becomes public, every person connected to the thorned crown will know you survived.”
“The attacker already knew.”
“One attacker knew. We don’t know how many others do.”
“And Father Gabriel?”
“If he is truly at the cathedral, he may know who is hunting you.”
I held up the recorder. “He may also know why Mother called you guilty.”
Pain flickered across Dante’s face.
“She was our mother too,” he said quietly.
“Then why did she leave the truth in a locker instead of trusting you?”
He turned away without answering.
The cathedral appeared at the end of the street, its stone towers rising through the rain. Most of its windows were dark, but a faint light burned behind the stained glass above the entrance.
Our car stopped beside the steps.
Dante checked his gun. “Elena stays here.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“And this isn’t your mansion.”
Luca sighed. “I knew that line was coming.”
“If Father Gabriel knows my identity, I’m speaking to him.”
“You were shot at less than an hour ago,” Dante said.
“And the man who shot at me is dead.”
“The person who sent him isn’t.”
I reached for the door.
Dante caught my arm. “You stay between Luca and me. You do exactly what we say.”
“Fine.”
“If I tell you to run, you run.”
“Fine.”
“If I tell you to get down—”
“I know how bullets work, Dante.”
His grip tightened briefly. “That is precisely what terrifies me.”
We entered through a side door while the guards secured the building. The cathedral smelled of candle wax, old wood, and rain.
Rows of empty pews stretched toward the altar.
“Father Gabriel?” Dante called.
His voice echoed through the enormous room.
No one answered.
A candle near the confessional was still burning.
Luca touched the wax. “Recently lit.”
Dante signaled for two guards to search the side corridors.
I moved closer to the altar. A folded piece of paper rested beside a vase of white lilies.
My name was written across it.
ELENA.
“Don’t touch it,” Dante warned.
“It’s addressed to me.”
“That does not make it safe.”
Luca examined the paper before opening it carefully.
“It’s only a note.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
His playful expression vanished.
“Luca?”
He handed the paper to Dante.
I snatched it first.
The message contained only one sentence.
Ask Dante what he did to Isabella Valenti.
“Who is Isabella?”
Dante went pale.
I stepped toward him. “Is that my mother’s name?”
“Elena, give me the note.”
“Answer me.”
A sound came from behind the altar.
Dante immediately raised his weapon. “Come out.”
An elderly priest emerged from a narrow doorway with both hands raised. His white hair was wet, and blood stained the collar beneath his coat.
“Please,” he said. “Do not shoot.”
“Father Gabriel?” I whispered.
His eyes found me.
For a moment, he looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“Isabella,” he breathed.
Dante moved in front of me. “She is not Isabella.”
“No,” the priest said. “But she has her eyes.”
I stepped around Dante. “Did you know my biological mother?”
Father Gabriel nodded. “I was with her when she died.”
My chest tightened. “How?”
“We do not have much time.”
“Then tell me my name.”
Dante caught my shoulder. “Not here.”
Father Gabriel stared at him. “You have delayed the truth long enough.”
“I kept her alive.”
“You also allowed her to believe a lie.”
“A lie was safer.”
“For whom? Her or you?”
Dante’s gun remained lowered, but rage hardened his face.
“What happened to Isabella?” I asked.
The priest’s gaze returned to me. “She belonged to the Valenti family. The thorned crown was their symbol.”
“Was she mafia?”
“She was born into that world, but she wanted to escape it. When she became pregnant, she learned that her child would be used to unite two criminal empires.”
“My father wanted power?”
“Your father wanted ownership.”
A cold shiver traveled down my back. “Who was he?”
Father Gabriel glanced at Dante.
“Tell her,” Dante said.
The priest looked surprised. “Are you certain?”
“No. But our enemies already know she is alive.”
Before Father Gabriel could speak, footsteps sounded near the cathedral entrance.
Noah appeared between the pews, soaked from the rain.
“Elena!”
Dante immediately aimed his gun at him.
Noah stopped. “You need to get her out of here.”
“You have three seconds to explain why you were photographed with a dead priest,” Dante said.
Father Gabriel stepped forward. “Noah helped me hide.”
“Then why did he send Elena to that locker?”
“I didn’t know someone was watching it,” Noah said.
Luca drew his weapon. “That isn’t a very comforting answer.”
I looked at Noah. “Did you know what was on the recording?”
“Only part of it.”
“You knew my mother left it?”
“Yes.”
“And you still didn’t tell me who I am?”
“I promised Father Gabriel I would bring you to him when it was safe.”
I laughed bitterly. “Everyone keeps deciding when I’m allowed to know my own life.”
“Elena, listen to me. The person sending you those messages wants you separated from your brothers.”
“They lied to me.”
“They did,” Noah said. “But the people hunting you are worse.”
A loud crash came from the upper balcony.
The cathedral lights went out.
Dante pulled me down behind a pew as gunfire erupted from above. Stained glass shattered, scattering colored pieces across the
floor.
“Move!” Luca shouted.
The guards fired toward the balcony. Noah ran to Father Gabriel and dragged him behind a stone pillar.
Dante pressed his body over mine as bullets tore through the wooden pew.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
“Is this really the time?”
“It is an excellent time.”
A bell began ringing above us, loud and violent.
Through the darkness, a red laser appeared on Father Gabriel’s chest.
“Noah!” I screamed.
Noah pushed the priest aside just before the shot struck the pillar.
Luca fired toward the balcony. A shadow disappeared behind the organ.
“There are at least three of them,” he said.
Dante pulled me toward the side corridor. “We’re leaving.”
“No! Father Gabriel hasn’t told me my father’s name.”
The priest gripped Noah’s arm as he struggled to stand.
“He must never find her,” he gasped.
“Who?” I demanded. “Who is my father?”
Another bullet struck the stone beside him.
Father Gabriel looked directly at me.
“Your father is not searching for you, child.”
Blood spread across his shirt from the wound near his shoulder.
“He has been watching you your entire life.”
The bell stopped ringing.
A voice came through the cathedral’s speaker system.
“Hello, Elena.”
Dante froze.
Luca’s face lost all color.
I recognized the voice.
It belonged to Marco, the head of our family security—the man who had watched me since childhood.
The speaker crackled again.
“Or should I call you Alessandra Valenti?”
Dante tightened his grip on his gun.
And for the first time, I heard my oldest brother whisper my real name.
“Alessandra.”
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