Shy Waitress Greeted Mafia Boss’s Sicilian Dad—Her Sicilian Dialect Greeting Had Every Guest Frozen

Escape Through the Earth

He dragged the heavy oak desk aside with a grunt of exertion, revealing a section of the floor that looked seamless. He pried up a panel, revealing a dark, musty staircase spiraling down into the earth.

“Ladies first,” Lorenzo said.

He urged Louisa toward the hole.

“What about him?” Louisa pointed at Salvatore.

The old man was struggling to stand, his bad leg giving out.

“I will slow you down,” Salvatore said.

He sank back into his chair. He looked at Lorenzo with a grim smile.

“Go. Take the girl. Keep the legacy safe. I will hold them here.”

“No,” Lorenzo said instantly.

“I am not leaving you.”

“Lorenzo, that is an order!”

“I don’t care!” Lorenzo shouted.

His voice was cracking. For the first time, the mask of the cold mafia prince slipped, revealing a terrified son.

“I am not leaving my father to die like a dog.”

The door handle rattled violently. Someone was kicking it from the other side.

“Get up!” Louisa yelled.

She surprised herself. She grabbed Salvatore’s arm and hauled him up with a strength she didn’t know she possessed.

“We are going. All of us. Move!”

She glared at Lorenzo.

“Help him!”

Lorenzo stared at her for a split second, stunned by her command. Then he nodded, grabbing Salvatore’s other arm.

Together they practically carried the old man down the stairs. Lorenzo pulled the floor panel back into place just as the study door splintered open above them.

They were plunged into total darkness. The air smelled of damp earth and mold.

“Phone light,” Lorenzo whispered.

“Keep it low.”

Louisa fumbled for her phone, turning on the flashlight. The beam cut through the gloom, revealing a narrow brick tunnel lined with cobwebs.

“It’s a half-mile to the stables,” Lorenzo said.

He was supporting his father’s weight.

“Stay behind me. If you see anything move, you shoot. Do you understand?”

“Louisa, no hesitation this time.”

“I understand,” Louisa whispered.

She gripped the gun tighter. The fear was still there, but it was hardening into something cold and sharp.

She wasn’t just a waitress anymore. She was a survivor.

Confrontation at the Stables

They moved as fast as they could, the sound of their breathing loud in the confined space. Above them, they could hear the faint thud of boots running across the floorboards.

The enemy was searching. They reached a heavy iron door at the end of the tunnel.

Lorenzo held up a hand, signaling for silence. He pressed his ear to the metal.

“Quiet!” he mouthed.

He slowly turned the wheel on the door. It groaned, the rust protesting.

He pushed it open just a crack. The smell of hay and horses drifted in.

“The stables.”

Lorenzo pushed the door open and stepped out, gun raised.

“Clear.”

They helped Salvatore out into the main barn. The horses were restless, whinnying in their stalls, sensing the danger.

“The sedan is in the back bay,” Lorenzo said.

“Come on.”

They were halfway across the stable floor when the floodlights suddenly snapped on, blinding them.

“Going somewhere, boss?”

Lorenzo froze. He pushed Louisa and Salvatore behind him.

Standing by the exit, flanked by four heavily armed mercenaries, was Vinnie. The head of security was smiling, chewing on a toothpick.

He held a submachine gun casually at his hip.

“Vinnie,” Lorenzo said.

His voice was deadly calm.

“I should have killed you when I caught you skimming off the casino profits last year.”

“You should have,” Vinnie agreed.

“But you have a soft spot for strays, don’t you, Lorenzo? Just like your old man.”

Vinnie’s eyes shifted to Louisa.

“And look at the new stray, the billion-dollar girl. The Russians are very eager to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Why?” Louisa stepped out from behind Lorenzo.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Business, doll,” Vinnie shrugged.

“The Moretti family is a sinking ship. The Don is old. Lorenzo is too busy playing businessman to be a real gangster. The Genovese offered me 10 million to hand you over. 10 million buys a lot of loyalty.”

“You’re scum,” Lorenzo spat.

“I’m rich scum,” Vinnie laughed.

He raised his gun.

“Kill the men. Keep the girl alive. Leg shots only.”

The Stampede of Chaos

Time seemed to slow down. Louisa saw the mercenaries’ fingers tightening on their triggers.

She saw Lorenzo tense up, preparing to throw himself in front of her. He was going to die.

He was going to die protecting her, just like her grandmother had feared.

“No!”

Louisa’s eyes darted to the side. Next to her was a stall housing Diablo, a massive, temperamental black stallion that Lorenzo rode.

The stall door was latched, but the pin was loose. Louisa had noticed it when they walked in—a waitress’s habit of noticing small details like a wobbly table leg.

As Vinnie opened his mouth to give the fire order, Louisa didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.

She lunged to the side and kicked the latch pin out. She slapped the stallion’s flank as hard as she could.

“Vai! Go!”

The stallion, already spooked by the lights and the aggression, exploded out of the stall. It was 1,200 pounds of panicked muscle.

Diablo charged straight at the mercenaries, bucking and kicking.

“Hold fire!” Vinnie screamed.

He dived out of the way of the flailing hooves. Chaos erupted.

The mercenaries scattered to avoid being trampled.

“Now!” Lorenzo yelled.

He didn’t waste the distraction. He raised his weapon and fired two precise shots.

Two mercenaries dropped. Vinnie scrambled to his feet, raising his submachine gun.

He aimed at Lorenzo’s back.

“Lorenzo!” Louisa shrieked.

She raised the heavy pistol. She didn’t think about the morality.

She didn’t think about fear. She thought about the man who had held her hand in the car.

She thought about the only family she had left. She pointed.

She pulled. The gun kicked violently, nearly flying out of her hand.

The shot went wide, shattering a window above Vinnie’s head, but it forced Vinnie to flinch. He turned his aim toward Louisa.

That split second was all Lorenzo needed.

Breaking the Traitor

Lorenzo crossed the distance between them in three strides. He knocked the gun from Vinnie’s hands with a brutal swipe of his pistol barrel.

Vinnie stumbled back, pulling a knife from his belt.

“Come on then, pretty boy.”

Lorenzo holstered his gun. He didn’t want to shoot Vinnie; he wanted to break him.

“For my father,” Lorenzo snarled.

He dodged Vinnie’s slash and landed a sickening punch to Vinnie’s ribs.

“For the family,” Vinnie gasped.

He swung wildly. Lorenzo caught his wrist, twisted it until the bone snapped, and drove his knee into Vinnie’s solar plexus.

Vinnie collapsed to the dirt, gasping for air, clutching his broken arm. Lorenzo stood over him, breathing hard.

He pulled his gun back out and aimed it at Vinnie’s head.

“Wait!” Vinnie wheezed.

Blood was bubbling on his lips.

“Wait! You kill me, you never find the bomb.”

The silence in the stable was absolute. Even the horses seemed to freeze.