Chapter 9 - THE SCARF IN THE MORNING LIGHT
I stopped breathing.
My mother’s scarf.
The soft, blue silk scarf I had bought her for Christmas two years ago. She never went anywhere without it.
I didn't scream. I didn't call for Luca.
A cold, terrifying clarity washed over me. I wasn't going to hide behind the men in this house anymore.
I walked out of the study, slipping the micro-SD card back into my locket and clasping it securely around my neck.
I bypassed the grand foyer where Luca was speaking to the police. I slipped out the side kitchen door, walking quickly across the damp morning grass toward the front gates.
The man was still leaning against the black car.
He was in his fifties, wearing a cheap suit, with a scar running through his left eyebrow.
He smirked as I approached the wrought-iron gate.
“Emma Sullivan,” he said, his voice raspy. “You look just like your father.”
“Where is my mother?” I demanded, gripping the cold iron bars.
“She’s safe. For now.” He held up the blue scarf. “She was quite surprised when we visited her little house this morning.”
“Who are you?”
“I work for the Commission,” the man said smoothly. “Your dear grandmother, Donata, made a phone call as soon as she left this estate. The Commission wants the drives, Emma. And they know Luca won't give them up.”
“So you took an innocent woman?”
“In our world, nobody is innocent. Bring the card to the old shipyard on Navy Pier in one hour. Come alone. If you tell Luca, or if you bring muscle, we send your mother back in pieces.”
He tossed the scarf through the bars. It fluttered to the wet grass at my feet.
He got into the car and drove away.
I picked up the scarf. It smelled like her perfume. Lavender and vanilla.
I squeezed it tightly in my fist.
I walked back into the house.
I didn't go to the shipyard alone. I wasn't stupid.
I walked straight into the grand foyer.
Luca had just finished speaking with the detectives. He saw my face and immediately crossed the room.
“What’s wrong?”
I held up the scarf.
“The Commission took my mother. They want me to bring the card to Navy Pier in an hour.”
Luca’s expression turned instantly lethal.
“They are dead.”
“They said if I bring you, they’ll kill her.”
“They’ll kill her anyway once they have the card,” Luca stated bluntly. “We don't negotiate with the Commission. We break them.”
He turned to Daniel.
“Assemble the strike team. Heavy weapons. We’re going to war.”
Fifty minutes later, a convoy of unmarked black vans pulled up to the abandoned shipyard at Navy Pier.
The morning fog rolled off Lake Michigan, obscuring the massive rusted cargo containers.
Luca didn't let me walk in blindly. He gave me a bulletproof vest to wear under my jacket and handed me a small, silver earpiece.
“Keep the line open,” Luca instructed, adjusting the earpiece for me. “Walk in. Get eyes on your mother. The second you confirm she is alive, drop to the ground. We will handle the rest.”
I nodded, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
I stepped out of the van and walked into the fog.
The shipyard was eerily quiet. My footsteps echoed on the wet concrete.
“Keep going, Emma. I have eyes on you,” Luca’s voice murmured reassuringly in my ear.
I reached the center clearing between the towering cargo containers.
The scarred man was standing there.
Behind him, tied to a metal chair, was my mother.
She looked terrified, but unhurt.
“Mom!” I yelled, taking a step forward.
“Emma, go back!” she cried.
The scarred man raised a hand. Three snipers appeared on top of the cargo containers, laser sights painting my chest.
“Ah, ah,” the man clicked his tongue. “I said come alone.”
“I am alone,” I lied, holding my hands up. “I have the card.”
“Toss it over.”
I reached for my locket. I unclasped it.
“Let her go first,” I demanded.
The man laughed. “You don't dictate terms, little girl.”
He pulled a gun and aimed it at my mother’s head.
“The card. Now.”
I looked at my mother. I looked at the red dots on my chest.
I threw the locket.
It landed at his feet.
As he bent down to pick it up, I screamed into the earpiece.
“NOW!”
I dropped to the concrete, covering my head.
All hell broke loose.
Simultaneous sniper fire echoed across the pier. The three Commission snipers on the containers dropped instantly, neutralized by Luca’s hidden marksmen.
Luca and his strike team poured out from behind the rusted metal, unleashing a barrage of suppressing fire.
The scarred man panicked. He didn't grab the locket. He grabbed my mother, hauling her up as a human shield.
“Hold your fire!” Luca roared, raising his hand.
The shooting stopped.
The scarred man backed toward a waiting speedboat at the edge of the pier, holding his gun to my mother’s temple.
“You think you’re smart, Luca?” the man yelled. “The Commission will hunt you to the ends of the earth!”
“Let her go,” Luca said, stepping forward slowly, his gun aimed steadily.
“Back off!”
I was on the ground, ten feet away. The scarred man was focused entirely on Luca.
He didn't see me reach into my jacket.
He didn't know that my father had taught me how to shoot when I was twelve years old, out on a farm in rural Illinois.
I pulled the small, silver handgun Luca had given me for protection.
I didn't hesitate.
I aimed at the scarred man’s knee.
I pulled the trigger.
The gunshot rang out. The man screamed, his leg buckling instantly.
He dropped my mother.
Luca fired once. A clean, precise shot to the man’s shoulder, disarming him completely.
I scrambled up and ran to my mother, pulling her into a desperate, crushing hug.
“I've got you, Mom. I've got you,” I cried.
Luca walked over, his men securing the wounded Commission operative.
Luca knelt down and picked up my locket from the concrete.
He walked over to me and handed it back.
“Nice shot,” Luca smiled, his dark eyes filled with absolute pride.
I hugged my mother tight, looking up at the man who had just risked everything to save my family.
The truth was out. My family was safe. The traitors were beaten.
It was the happy ending we had fought so hard for.
But as we walked back to the vans, my mother stopped and looked at Luca.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You honored Arthur’s memory today.”
Luca nodded respectfully. “He was a good man.”
My mother hesitated.
“Luca... before he died, Arthur didn't just hide the financial drives. He hid something else. Something the Commission wants even more.”
Luca frowned. “What?”
My mother reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, heavy brass key.
May you like
“He hid the vault key to the original Commission charter. The blood oaths.”
TITLE: THE BRASS KEY IN THE FOG
