THE MAN WHO CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD

“Open the door, sons.”

The voice on the other side of the heavy emergency doors was perfectly calm.

And undeniably Anthony Russo.

Gabriel stood frozen. His breath caught in his chest. “My father is dead. I buried him myself thirteen years ago.”

“Did you look in the casket, Gabriel?” Adrian whispered from his wheelchair. His hands were gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles were white.

Before Gabriel could answer, the electronic lock on the double doors clicked.

The security system had been overridden.

The doors slowly pushed open.

A man stood in the dim red emergency lighting.

He was not Anthony Russo.

He was in his late fifties, wearing an immaculate dark suit. The left side of his face was covered in severe, raised burn scars that pulled at the corner of his mouth.

In his right hand, he held a heavy gold pocket watch.

Gabriel’s eyes locked onto the object.

I knew that watch. I had seen it in old photographs on Gabriel’s desk. It was their grandfather’s family heirloom—the watch Anthony Russo carried every day of his life.

The scarred man snapped the watch closed.

“You never were good at recognizing a trap, Gabriel.”

His voice wasn’t the old man’s. He had used a digital modulator on the intercom. Now, his real voice was raspy. Broken.

Gabriel took a slow step forward. “Thomas.”

The scarred man smiled, though it looked more like a wince. “Hello, little brother. It’s been forty-five years.”

Elena grabbed Gabriel’s arm. “Dad, don’t. He has men with him.”

Two armed guards stepped out of the shadows behind Thomas. But Thomas raised a hand, stopping them.

“I didn’t come to hurt you, Gabriel,” Thomas said softly. “I came to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping my empire warm.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “You don’t own my business.”

“I own everything,” Thomas corrected. He walked slowly into the room, limping slightly. “When our father faked my death in that chamber, he didn’t just throw me away. He kept me underground. He broke me down and rebuilt me into the ruthless son he actually wanted. While you were playing businessman in the sunlight, I was the one doing the real work in the dark.”

Gabriel stared at him. “Why reveal yourself now?”

Thomas’s scarred face twitched. He looked past Gabriel.

Directly at Dr. Hale.

“Because Raymond has run out of time,” Thomas said.

Hale backed against the wall, trembling. “Thomas, please. I did what you asked.”

“You did exactly half of what I asked.” Thomas pulled a silver oxygen cartridge from his pocket. The exact same kind I had pulled from Gabriel’s machine. “Answer one question, Raymond, and I let you live. Why is Gabriel’s memory fighting the treatment?”

I felt a sudden, sickening drop in my stomach.

I looked at Gabriel. Then at Hale.

“The oxygen wasn’t causing his memory loss,” I said out loud.

Everyone turned to me.

“The treatment wasn’t a side effect,” I continued, the terrifying realization washing over me. “It was the goal. You’ve been intentionally erasing Gabriel’s memories for six weeks.”

Hale refused to meet my eyes.

Thomas laughed softly. “You hired a smart nurse, Gabriel. Too bad she won’t live to collect her paycheck.”

Thomas raised a handgun and pointed it directly at my chest.

“Wait!” Elena screamed.

But Thomas didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he turned the gun ninety degrees and fired a single shot.

Dr. Hale collapsed to the floor, clutching his stomach.

Before we could react, Thomas’s guards rushed forward, grabbing Gabriel.