Cremation.
Liam’s mind caught the word like a lightning strike. They weren't going to bury him. Renata had insisted on cremation, claiming Liam had expressed that wish years ago. They were going to burn him alive in thirty-six hours.
Luna leaned close to his ear, her voice dropping to an urgent, barely audible hiss. "I know where the family doctor keeps his emergency kit in the medical study downstairs. My father was a paramedic, Mr. Falcone. When people take neural suppressants or South Side paralytics, they use atropine or heavy stimulants to wake the heart. I’m going to get it. Do not let them see you move."
She backed away smoothly, wiped her eyes, and stepped toward the chapel doors. She pulled her feather duster from her apron pocket, adopting the docile, bowed posture of a grieving housemaid, and slipped out into the corridor.
Ten minutes felt like ten centuries inside the casket.
Liam fought the sensory deprivation. Outside, he heard the low voices of two guards strolling past the chapel doors.
"Carmine’s offering a twenty percent bonus to all captains who swear loyalty by Friday," one guard said.
"What about the South Side?" the other replied. "Word is the Vancamp brothers are moving onto Taylor Street tonight."
"Let 'em. Carmine signed a pact with Vancamp yesterday. The old man’s rules are dead."
Liam’s rage grew so intense he felt a burning sensation in his throat. Carmine hadn't just murdered him; he was surrendering eighty years of Falcone territory to their bitterest enemies, destroying the legacy Liam’s grandfather had bled for.
The side door clicked again.
Luna slipped inside, carrying a small black leather bag under her apron. She locked the heavy oak door from the inside using an old brass key she had stolen from the housekeeper’s ring three months ago.
She rushed to the casket, pulling a small syringe and two glass ampoules from the bag.