Chapter 3 - Her Mother’s Hand
Patricia grabbed the doorframe.
“No.”
Serena turned.
Dante could already hear footsteps entering the pantry.
“Move,” he said.
Patricia shook her head.
“My husband wouldn’t—”
“He already did.”
The words landed harder than a slap.
For one second, Serena looked at her mother without moving.
Dante saw the choice pass across her face.
This woman had walked into their home knowing he would be murdered.
She had told Serena to pack as if they were leaving an unpleasant dinner.
Serena reached back.
“Mom.
Take my hand.”
Patricia did.
They entered the concrete stairwell.
Dante shut the door softly and led them down one flight.
A figure appeared at the landing below.
Elias raised an empty hand.
Blood marked the shoulder of his gray shirt.
“Lobby guard caught me coming back,” he said.
“I got your messages out before Hale shut down the internal system.”
“How many?”
“Six I saw.
Maybe more.”
Behind them, the service door slammed open.
Dante shoved the women around the landing.
A shot hit the concrete.
Elias returned fire once, forcing the attacker back.
Dante pulled open the next door, and they stumbled into an unfinished apartment.
Plastic sheets hung from the ceiling.
A work light threw their shadows across bare walls.
Elias locked the door.
“It won’t hold.”
“Freight elevator?” Dante asked.
“Ground controls belong to Hale.”
Serena pointed toward the far wall.
“The contractor’s stairs.”
Both men looked at her.
“They’re replacing plumbing between these floors.
I came down last week because the drilling wouldn’t stop.”
She crossed the apartment and pulled aside a plastic sheet.
Temporary wooden steps led through an opening in the floor.
Dante almost laughed.
Three years in the same home, and he had no idea what his wife did during the day.
They descended through dust and exposed wiring.
By the time they reached the construction entrance, sirens sounded somewhere beyond the building.
Elias had called emergency services before coming upstairs.
Outside, cold rain soaked Serena’s robe.
Dante put his jacket around her.
Patricia leaned against a concrete column, shaking so badly her earrings clicked.
Her phone began ringing.
VINCENT.
“Answer it,” Dante said.
She looked at him.
“On speaker.”
Patricia accepted the call.
Her husband didn’t ask if she was safe.
“Is she with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring her to me.”
“And me, Vincent?”
Silence.
Patricia closed her eyes.
May you like
When he finally answered, his voice was flat.
“You were supposed to be out before they arrived.”
