Chapter 6 - THE PINK BRACELET
The radio transmission felt like a physical blow.
Lily.
I dropped the gold watch and sprinted for the basement stairs.
“Emma, wait!” Dante yelled, right behind me.
I burst through the kitchen doors.
Mrs. Walsh was on the floor, holding her bleeding head. The kitchen was empty.
The back door leading to the alley was wide open.
“They took her,” Mrs. Walsh groaned, tears streaming down her face. “Carlo’s men… they came through the service entrance.”
I ran out into the alley.
The taillights of a black SUV were disappearing around the corner into the rainy New York night.
I fell to my knees on the wet asphalt, a scream tearing from my throat.
Dante caught me by the shoulders, pulling me up against his chest. He held me tight, anchoring me to the earth while my world shattered.
“We’ll get her back,” Dante swore, his voice rumbling against my back. “I swear on my life, Emma, we will get her back.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Lock down the city,” Dante ordered into the phone. “Carlo Marchetti just declared war.”
He hung up and turned to me.
“If Carlo has Lily, he’s going to use her to force the trade. The key and the lockbox number for your sister.”
“Then give it to him!” I cried. “I don’t care about family secrets, Dante. I just want Lily!”
“I will,” Dante said. “But Carlo won’t leave witnesses. If we hand it over blindly, he kills us all. We need leverage.”
He looked toward the garage.
“We’re going to the nursing home in Brooklyn. Right now. If your uncle Arthur is alive, he knows exactly what’s in that deposit box. We need to know what we’re trading.”
We took Dante’s armored Range Rover. He drove like a demon through the rain-slicked streets, his jaw set in a ruthless line.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a decaying brick building in Brooklyn. St. Jude’s Assisted Living.
We bypassed the sleeping receptionist and walked down the dim, linoleum-tiled hallways.
Room 114.
Dante pushed the door open.
The room was small, smelling of antiseptic and old paper.
Sitting in a wheelchair by the window, staring out at the rain, was an older man. His hair was entirely white, and a jagged scar ran down the side of his neck.
He turned his wheelchair around.
His eyes locked onto me.
They were the exact same shade of hazel as mine.
“Emma,” the old man whispered. Tears immediately welled in his eyes. “You’ve grown so beautiful.”
“Uncle Arthur?” I asked, my voice cracking.
He nodded. He looked at Dante. “You look just like your mother, Dante.”
“Arthur,” Dante said urgently. “Carlo Marchetti took Emma’s sister. He wants the safety deposit box. What’s inside it?”
Arthur’s face darkened. He wheeled himself over to the small bedside table.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a small object.
He handed it to me.
It was a cheap, plastic pink bracelet. The kind you win at an arcade.
“It’s not money in that box, Dante,” Arthur said. “It’s a confession tape. Recorded by Carlo’s own brother thirty years ago.”
Arthur looked at the pink bracelet in my hand.
“That bracelet belonged to your mother, Emma. The night of the car crash, Carlo ran us off the road to get that tape. I survived. But I had to fake my death to keep you and your mother safe.”
Arthur looked up at Dante.
“The tape proves Carlo ordered the hit on your father. If that tape gets into the hands of the Commission, Carlo loses his empire. He’ll be hunted down like a dog.”
Dante’s eyes blazed with a cold, terrifying fury.
“Then we get the tape,” Dante said.
My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown number.
May you like
I answered it on speaker.
“Emma,” Sofia’s voice chimed. She sounded breathless, triumphant. “My father wants to meet. Pier 42. One hour. Bring the key, the numbers, and Dante. Come alone, or your little sister goes for a swim.”
