Chapter 6 - THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM
The shockwave knocked me off my feet.
Concrete dust rained down from the ceiling as terrified screams echoed from the main hall above.
Donato hadn't targeted Vincent’s men. He had detonated a distraction—a small explosive in a trash can near the main entrance. It was enough to cause mass panic, sending hundreds of commuters stampeding toward the exits.
In the chaos, Donato’s guards grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the maintenance tunnels behind the locker banks.
“Move!” Donato barked, shoving Sabrina ahead of him.
We plunged into the dark, damp concrete tunnels beneath the station. The sound of sirens began to wail in the distance.
“He’s insane!” Sabrina shrieked, tripping over her expensive heels in the dark. “Donato, you blew up the station!”
“Shut up and keep moving!” Donato snapped. “We’re getting out through the subway maintenance access.”
My head spun, my scalp burning where the guard held my hair. I stumbled over a thick bundle of cables, but the guard yanked me upright, pressing the gun harder into my ribs.
We ran for what felt like miles through the subterranean darkness until we reached a heavy iron door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Donato kicked the door open. It led to an abandoned subway platform, illuminated only by the emergency lights.
Waiting on the tracks was a sleek, black maintenance train.
Donato pushed Sabrina toward the train. “Get in.”
Sabrina scrambled aboard, her cream coat ruined with soot and dirt.
Donato turned to me. His cold eyes narrowed. “You don't know the locker number, do you?”
“No,” I spat, glaring at him. “My mother died before she could tell me.”
Donato sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment. “Then you are of no further use to me.”
He raised his suppressed pistol and aimed it directly at my forehead.
I closed my eyes. I thought of my mother. I thought of Evelyn.
A gunshot rang out in the tunnel.
But I didn't feel any pain.
I opened my eyes.
The guard holding me crumpled to the floor, a bullet hole in his shoulder.
Donato spun around, raising his weapon, but another shot echoed, striking Donato’s gun hand. The suppressed pistol clattered onto the concrete platform.
Donato screamed, clutching his bleeding hand.
Emerging from the darkness of the tunnel, illuminated by the red emergency lights, was Vincent Romano.
He moved with the terrifying, silent grace of an apex predator. He didn't say a word. He just leveled his shotgun at the remaining guard, who instantly dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender.
Sabrina shrieked from inside the train, scrambling to the far corner of the cabin.
Vincent walked over to me, kicking the guard's dropped weapon onto the tracks.
He looked at me, his eyes scanning for injuries. “Are you hit?”
“No,” I breathed, my heart hammering in my chest.
Vincent nodded once. He turned his attention to Donato, who was groaning on the floor, clutching his shattered hand.
“You always were a coward, Donato,” Vincent said softly, towering over the fallen mob boss. “Blowing up a train station to cover your escape.”
“You’re a dead man, Vincent,” Donato hissed through his teeth. “My family will tear this city apart.”
“Your family is currently being arrested by the FBI,” Vincent replied calmly. “While you were dragging Rachel through the tunnels, I made a phone call. I gave them the ledger Marco died for.”
Donato’s face drained of color. “You don't have the ledger.”
Vincent reached into his coat pocket.
He didn't pull out a book.
He pulled out the heavy silver watch. Marco’s watch.
Vincent pressed the latch. The back casing popped open.
Tucked inside, folded perfectly, was a micro-SD card.
“My brother didn't hide the account codes in a locker,” Vincent said, his voice thick with grief. “He hid them in the watch he wore every day. The watch Sabrina stole off his body before she set the fire.”
A reversal hit me so hard I stumbled backward.
The baggage claim ticket wasn't for the ledger.
“Then what was the ticket for?” I asked, staring at the tiny piece of paper still clutched in my hand.
May you like
Vincent looked at me, his expression softening.
“It was for you, Rachel.”
