Chapter 4 - THE RED DOTS IN THE DARK
Dozens of red laser sights danced across Sophie’s tiny chest like a swarm of deadly fireflies.
My heart completely stopped. I threw myself over her, forcing her down onto the cold, oily concrete floor, curling my body around hers as a human shield.
"Mommy, it hurts," Sophie whimpered, her knee scraping the ground.
"Don't move, baby," I sobbed, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the bullets to tear through my back. "Please don't move."
Adrian didn't dive for cover. He stood firmly over us, his gun drawn, pointing up toward the catwalk where Uncle Carlo's voice had echoed.
"Carlo!" Adrian roared, his voice filled with a feral, terrifying rage. "If one of those lasers touches my sister or my niece, I will spend the rest of my life making you suffer!"
A low, cruel laugh drifted down from the darkness.
"You don't have a 'rest of your life', Adrian," Carlo said smoothly. The warehouse lights suddenly flared back on, blindingly bright.
Carlo stood on the metal catwalk thirty feet above us, flanked by six men holding assault rifles. Vanessa stood slightly behind him, looking terrified but resolute, clutching a designer handbag as if it were a life preserver.
Matteo, the old hitman, had already pulled two heavy revolvers, aiming them at the men above. But we were vastly outgunned.
"Hand over the photograph, Adrian," Carlo demanded, leaning against the metal railing. "It's the only copy in existence. Lucia stole it from my private safe twenty years ago. Hand it over, and I'll make your deaths quick."
"You murdered my grandfather," Adrian snarled, the burn scar on his hand stretching white as he gripped his pistol. "You tried to burn my mother and sister alive. You lied to my father until the day he died. I'm not giving you anything."
Carlo sighed, a theatrical sound of disappointment. "You always were too sentimental. Just like your father. Kill them."
The men raised their rifles.
"Wait!" I screamed, desperately pulling something from my apron pocket.
I held it high above my head.
It was a small, heavy silver key.
The men paused. Carlo narrowed his eyes.
"What is that?" Carlo asked.
"It's the key to the safety deposit box!" I lied, my voice shaking so violently I could barely form the words. My mind raced back to my mother's dying days. She had given me this key, telling me it belonged to an old storage unit. I had no idea what was actually inside, but right now, it was the only bluff I had.
"The photograph is just a copy," I shouted, my throat burning. "My mother put the original negatives, along with audio recordings of your meetings with the Mayor, in a secure box at the First National Bank downtown. If I don't check in by tomorrow morning, the bank is instructed to mail the contents directly to the head of the Mafia Commission in New York."
Carlo froze.
The red lasers on my back wavered.
Adrian glanced down at me, shock flashing across his eyes before he expertly masked it. He immediately caught on to my bluff.
"You hear that, Carlo?" Adrian said, a cruel, triumphant smile crossing his face. "You kill us, the Commission gets the proof. They'll know you murdered the old Don. They'll strip you of everything. Your money, your men, your life."
Vanessa grabbed Carlo's arm. "Carlo, if the Commission finds out..."
Carlo violently shoved her off. He stared down at me, calculating the risk. He didn't know if I was lying. And he couldn't afford to be wrong.
"Drop your weapons," Carlo ordered his men. The red lasers vanished.
I let out a ragged breath, pulling Sophie tighter against my chest.
"You have until noon tomorrow, Adrian," Carlo said coldly. "Bring me the key and the negatives. If you don't, there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in."
Carlo turned and walked away, his men following him into the shadows. The heavy metal doors of the catwalk slammed shut.
We were alone again.
Adrian holstered his gun and immediately dropped to his knees beside us. He helped me sit up, checking Sophie for injuries.
"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" he asked frantically.
"We're fine," I gasped, my hands still shaking.
Matteo walked over, looking at the silver key in my hand. He let out a low whistle.
"That was a hell of a bluff, kid," the old hitman said with grudging respect. "You got your mother's spine, I'll give you that."
Adrian looked at me. "Is it a bluff? Elena, what does that key actually open?"
"I don't know," I admitted, handing it to him. "My mother gave it to me right before she died. She said it opened an old storage locker she rented under a fake name at Union Station. She never told me what was inside."
Adrian examined the key. It was old, the metal slightly tarnished, with a specific serial number stamped into the side.
"Union Station," Adrian murmured. He looked at Matteo. "If Carlo realizes she's bluffing about the bank, he'll send his men to tear the city apart looking for us."
"We go to the station now," Matteo agreed. "We find out what Lucia actually left you."
Thirty minutes later, we were standing in the echoing, cavernous halls of Union Station. It was past midnight, and the terminal was nearly abandoned, save for a few sleeping travelers and a lone janitor mopping the marble floors.
We found the old storage lockers tucked away in a dusty, forgotten corridor near the abandoned transit lines.
Adrian found locker number 402. He slid the silver key into the lock.
It turned with a stiff, heavy click.
Adrian pulled the metal door open.
I held my breath, expecting to see stacks of cash, or passports, or maybe the actual negatives I had bluffed about.
But the locker was completely empty.
Except for one thing sitting right in the center.
It wasn't a document. It wasn't money.
It was a heavy, perfectly preserved winter coat. A woman's coat.
I let out a choked sob. "That's my mother's. She wore that coat the night we ran away from the fire. She always said she lost it."
Adrian reached in and pulled the heavy wool coat out.
"Why would she pay for a storage locker just to hide a coat for twenty years?" Adrian asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
He ran his hands over the fabric, feeling the pockets. They were empty.
Then, he felt the heavy silk lining near the collar.
"There's something sewn inside," Adrian said.
He pulled a pocketknife from his belt and carefully sliced the stitches open. He reached inside the lining and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it under the flickering fluorescent lights of the train station.
As he read the words, all the color completely drained from his face.
"Adrian?" I whispered, fear gripping my heart again. "What is it?"
May you like
Adrian slowly looked up from the paper. He looked at me, then down at Sophie, and finally at Matteo.
"My mother didn't just run from the fire," Adrian said, his voice trembling with a mixture of horror and awe. "She started it."
