Chapter 5 - THE TRAIN TICKET
The black SUV tore through the slick streets of downtown Chicago.
Anthony was on his phone in the back seat, his voice low and commanding.
“I want six men at every entrance of Union Station. Do not engage Silas unless he touches her. I want him alive. And find my mother. Lock her in the estate. No one goes in or out.”
He hung up.
Leo was sitting between us, his small hands gripping the gold bracelet.
“Are we going to find my mom?” Leo asked quietly.
Anthony looked down at the boy. The hard lines of his face softened instantly.
“Yes, Leo. We’re going to find her. I promise you.”
I watched the interaction. For a man who had just discovered his entire life was a lie built on the blood of his father and brother, Anthony possessed a remarkable capacity for gentleness.
He looked at me.
“You didn’t have to come to the station, Kate. I could have had my driver take you home.”
“I’m already in the car,” I said simply.
Truth was, I couldn’t leave. Not now. I needed to see this end. I needed to make sure the boy with the terrified eyes got his mother back.
We pulled up to the massive stone columns of Union Station.
It was 11:10 PM.
The station was mostly empty, echoing with the sound of a few late-night commuters dragging luggage across the marble floors.
“Stay close to me,” Anthony said.
We walked into the Great Hall.
The vaulted ceiling soared above us.
Anthony’s security detail had blended into the shadows near the ticket counters, waiting for his signal.
“Do you see her, Leo?” Anthony whispered.
Leo scanned the massive room.
Then he pointed.
“There.”
Near Gate B, standing in the shadows of a massive marble pillar, was a woman in a simple gray dress.
Elena.
Even from a distance, I could see she was beautiful. But she looked exhausted, leaning heavily against the stone.
Standing directly behind her, holding her arm with a grip that looked painful, was a tall man with a jagged scar running up his neck.
Silas.
Bianca’s enforcer.
“He has a gun pressed to her back,” Anthony noted grimly, spotting the bulge beneath Silas’s jacket.
Answer one.
Elena was alive, but she was moments away from being forced onto a train to disappear forever.
Open two.
If Anthony’s mother wanted Elena dead, why was Silas putting her on a train instead of killing her in the apartment?
“Why hasn’t he killed her?” I asked Anthony.
“Because if she disappears, it solves my mother’s problem without drawing police heat to a murder scene,” Anthony said. “But Silas isn’t getting on that train.”
Anthony pulled his weapon, keeping it hidden by his side.
He started walking across the Great Hall.
I stayed a few paces behind, holding Leo’s hand.
Silas saw Anthony approaching.
His eyes widened in shock. He pulled Elena tighter against his chest, sliding his hand fully into his jacket.
“That’s far enough, Anthony!” Silas yelled, his voice echoing off the marble.
Anthony didn’t stop. He walked with a terrifying, rhythmic purpose.
“Let her go, Silas.”
Elena saw Anthony. Tears immediately spilled down her cheeks.
“Anthony,” she gasped. “They have Leo—”
“I have him, Elena,” Anthony said gently, not breaking eye contact with Silas. “He’s safe.”
Elena looked past Anthony. She saw me holding Leo’s hand. A sob of pure relief ripped from her throat.
“You’re dead, Anthony,” Silas sneered. “Bianca’s men are waiting outside.”
“My men are already outside,” Anthony corrected. “And inside. You have nowhere to go.”
Silas looked around nervously.
That was his mistake.
He took his eyes off Anthony for a microsecond.
Anthony didn’t shoot. He closed the remaining distance in two massive strides, grabbed Silas’s wrist, and twisted it violently upward.
A sickening snap echoed in the hall.
Silas screamed, dropping his weapon.
Anthony shoved Elena behind him, delivering a brutal strike to Silas’s jaw. The enforcer collapsed to the marble floor, unconscious.
Elena ran to us, falling to her knees and burying her face in Leo’s neck.
“My baby,” she sobbed, rocking him back and forth. “My beautiful boy.”
Anthony stood over Silas, breathing heavily.
He turned and looked at Elena.
Ten years of forced separation hung in the air between them.
Anthony knelt down carefully.
“Elena,” he whispered.
She looked up at him.
“I’m so sorry,” Anthony said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know. I swear to God, I didn’t know.”
Elena reached out, her hand trembling, and touched Anthony’s face.
“I know,” she whispered.
It was a beautiful moment.
But as I stood there, looking at Silas’s unconscious body, I noticed something sticking out of his coat pocket.
A thick, manila envelope.
I reached down and pulled it out.
The seal was broken.
I opened it.
Inside wasn’t cash.
It was a stack of high-resolution photographs.
I flipped through them, my stomach turning to ice.
They were surveillance photos.
Of me.
Taking out the trash at my apartment. Walking to the bus stop. Working at the funeral home.
The dates printed in the corners were from three weeks ago.
Long before Daniel died.
“Anthony,” I said, my voice completely flat.
He stood up, walking over to me.
He looked at the photos.
The reversal shattered everything we thought we had figured out.
“Why does Silas have surveillance photos of you from three weeks ago?” Anthony asked, completely bewildered.
I stared at the picture of my own face.
May you like
“Because I wasn’t randomly hired to clean the funeral home tonight,” I realized, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck.
“I was chosen.”
