Chapter 3: Breaking Free

Marco knew that betraying the mob meant risking their violent retaliation. But with Father Gabriel's encouragement, he steeled his resolve. He secretly contacted Jim, a crooked cop with mob ties, proposing a deal—information in exchange for witness protection.

Jim was skeptical at first, but Marco proved his value by providing evidence against Lucchese and his lieutenants. Within weeks, a major police sting based on Marco's intelligence netted dozens of arrests. The operation crippled the crime family's operations, earning Marco's informant status.

But word quickly spread that Marco was the rat. He began receiving death threats at all hours, forcing round-the-clock police protection. His former friends and associates now wanted him dead. Even with the guards, Marco lived in constant fear of retaliation.

One night, as Marco hurried out of a protected meeting with prosecutors, gunfire erupted in the parking garage. Bullets ricocheted off the cement as Marco and his guards hit the deck, returning fire blindly into the dark. When the shooting stopped, two would-be assassins lay dead, but it was a close call.

Marco knew he couldn't stay in the city any longer. But where could he disappear to start fresh with a new ID? Father Gabriel offered the only solution: temporary sanctuary within the church's rectory until arrangements were made.

The next Sunday, Marco sat anxiously through mass, glancing frequently at the doors. After it ended, Father Gabriel escorted him behind the altar into a hidden room.

"Stay here until we can get you to the safe house," the priest said gently. "God will protect you."

Marco paced for hours in the small, windowless space as shadows stretched across the church. Night fell, and still no word came. Had the police failed to intercept another attack? Exhausted, Marco dozed fitfully in the dark.

He jerked awake at a sound above—footfalls crossing the church's wooden beams—out of place in the silent building. Edging to the door, Marco listened in horror as muffled thuds and struggles turned to gurgled cries. He grabbed a statue's base as the only weapon available.

Then silence. Slowly, he cracked open the door—just as two hooded figures appeared at the altar, assault rifles scanning for signs of life. Marco barely ducked back in time as a barrage of gunfire tore at the door. Splinters and adrenaline filled the air. He had to act swiftly or die cowering.

Gathering courage, Marco burst from the room, his statue raised. The assailants turned too late; one received a skull-cracking blow as Marco grappled with the other in a fierce struggle. With a heave, Marco sent the man toppling over the altar rail to crash onto the stones below with a sickening crunch.

Rushing upstairs, Marco's worst fears were confirmed: Father Gabriel lay in a pool of blood, his eyes staring blankly at the crucifix above. Tears welled as sirens neared in the distance, too late. The mob had finally silenced the one person keeping Marco tethered to his fragile hope.

In that moment, a cold darkness gripped Marco's heart. There would be no redemption, no escape—only an endless cycle of violence. The mob had marked him, and he would make them pay dearly in return.