Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY COAT ON THE FLOOR
The words hit me like a physical blow.
My little sister.
“Mia,” I gasped, the world tilting violently.
My sister was only fourteen. She was at our tiny apartment across the city, doing homework. She had absolutely nothing to do with the Valenti family, the Mercers, or the secrets our mother took to her grave.
“No,” I choked out, grabbing Dante’s arm. “Please, Mr. Valenti. She’s just a kid. She doesn't know anything.”
Dante didn't flinch at my touch. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and the cold, terrifying mafia boss vanished, replaced by a fierce, protective anchor.
“They won't touch her,” Dante vowed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in my chest.
He turned his weapon away from the driver’s knee and aimed it dead at the man’s face. “You have ten seconds to tell me exactly who Mercer sent and where they are taking her.”
The driver squeezed his eyes shut, sweating profusely. “Two guys. Local muscle. Mercer told them to grab the kid and bring her to the abandoned railyard on 18th Street. He said he needed leverage to make the maid give up the safety deposit key.”
“What key?” Dante demanded.
“I don't know!” the driver sobbed. “Mercer just kept saying Sarah Cole stole a key fifteen years ago, and her daughters must have it.”
Dante lowered the gun. He looked at his lead guard. “Lock him in the cellar. Do not let him bleed out.”
The guards dragged the sobbing man away.
Dante turned to me. “Avery, look at me.”
I forced my eyes up to his, tears streaming down my face.
“Do you have a safety deposit key?” he asked gently.
I shook my head frantically. “No! My mother left us nothing but an old winter coat and a box of photographs. We don't have a key to anything.”
Rosa let out a sharp gasp behind us.
“Avery,” the elderly cook whispered, her face pale. “What did you just say?”
I blinked, confused. “I said we don't have a key. She just left us a coat and—”
“A coat,” Rosa interrupted, stepping forward, her hands trembling. “What kind of coat?”
“A heavy wool coat,” I said. “Dark blue. She wore it every winter. Why?”
Rosa looked at Dante, her eyes wide with terror and realization. “Isabella was wearing a dark blue wool coat the night she died. The police said it was missing from the crime scene. Sarah must have taken it before the cops arrived.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Avery, where is that coat right now?”
“In the hall closet at my apartment,” I said, panic rising in my throat. “Where Mia is.”
“Let’s go,” Dante commanded, grabbing my hand.
I didn't have time to process the fact that the most feared man in Chicago was holding the hand of his housemaid. We sprinted out the back doors of the mansion and into the cool night air.
A sleek black SUV was waiting, the engine already running. Dante shoved me into the passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel, ignoring his usual driver.
He floored the accelerator. The heavy vehicle tore out of the estate gates, tires screaming against the asphalt.
“Call my men at the railyard,” Dante barked over the roar of the engine, tossing his cell phone into my lap. “Speed dial 1. Tell Marco to surround the perimeter but hold fire until I get there.”
My hands shook so badly I dropped the phone twice before hitting the button. I relayed the message to Marco, a gruff-sounding man who simply replied, “Done, boss.”
The drive to my apartment complex usually took forty minutes. Dante made it in fifteen.
He didn't bother parking. He mounted the curb, the SUV tearing up the grass in front of my rundown brick building.
Before the car even fully stopped, Dante was out, his gun drawn.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
We raced up the concrete stairs to the third floor.
My front door was wide open.
The lock had been completely shattered.
“Mia!” I screamed, pushing past Dante and running inside.
The apartment was destroyed. The cheap coffee table was flipped over, books were scattered across the floor, and the sofa cushions had been slashed open.
But it was empty.
“Mia!” I cried again, running into the small bedroom we shared.
Nothing.
I fell to my knees in the center of the living room, a broken sob tearing from my throat. They had taken her. My little sister was gone.
Dante walked slowly into the room, his eyes scanning the destruction. He knelt beside me, placing a strong, warm hand on my shoulder.
“We will find her, Avery,” he promised softly. “I swear on my life, we will get her back.”
I couldn't speak. I just stared at the floor, my heart shattering into a million pieces.
Then, Dante’s gaze shifted to the hallway closet.
The door was hanging off its hinges.
Lying on the floor, surrounded by torn shoes and scattered umbrellas, was the dark blue wool coat.
Dante stood up and walked over to it. He picked up the heavy fabric. The lining had been viciously ripped open with a knife. White stuffing spilled out onto the floor.
“They searched it,” Dante said, his voice hard.
He ran his hands over the ruined coat, checking the pockets, feeling along the seams.
“They didn't find it,” he said, looking at me.
“Find what?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“The key,” Dante said. “They slashed the lining, but they were rushing. They missed the hem.”
He reached into the very bottom of the coat, where the fabric folded over. With a sharp tug, he ripped the seam apart.
A small, heavy object clattered onto the hardwood floor.
It wasn't a safety deposit key.
It was a heavy gold pocket watch.
Dante stared at it, the color draining completely from his face. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost.
I picked up the watch. It was beautiful, engraved with an intricate family crest.
“Dante,” I whispered, using his first name for the first time. “Whose watch is this?”
Dante didn't answer right away. His chest heaved as he stared at the gold object in my hand.
“It belonged to the man who gave the order to kill my mother,” Dante finally rasped, his voice filled with a horrifying realization. “But it wasn't my father.”
I froze. “Then who was it?”
Dante looked at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute dread.
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