Chapter 5 - THE MUSIC BOX
Mave slapped him.
The sound cracked through the kitchen.
Nobody moved.
Vincent’s face turned slightly with the impact.
He didn’t touch his cheek.
“You don’t get to say things like that and expect me to stand here quietly.”
“I don’t.”
“My mother spent fourteen months dying.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
Mave’s voice broke.
“And you said nothing?”
“I was trying to prove it.”
“For seventeen years?”
“For twelve. Then five years trying to find Salvatore’s people inside my own organization.”
“Stop making yourself sound noble.”
“I’m not noble.”
Vincent’s answer came instantly.
“That’s the one thing I’ll never lie to you about.”
Mave looked at him with tears burning behind her eyes.
“I hate you right now.”
His expression barely changed.
“I know.”
She hated that he sounded hurt.
She hated even more that part of her cared.
Three hours later, they stood across the street from her apartment building.
Leo checked the windows with binoculars.
“Lights are off.”
Vincent adjusted the bandage beneath his shirt.
“That means nothing.”
Frank remained in the car.
Mave pulled on borrowed sneakers.
“I’m going in.”
Vincent handed her a small radio.
“You stay behind me.”
“You really love saying that.”
“You really love ignoring it.”
They entered through the basement.
Mave knew every creak in her building.
Every broken tile.
Every door that stuck in humid weather.
Vincent moved like a shadow.
At her apartment, the lock was already broken.
Her stomach dropped.
“My place.”
“Behind me.”
They entered.
Destroyed.
Drawers emptied.
Couch cushions ripped apart.
Books scattered across the floor.
Someone had smashed framed photographs.
Mave walked toward one.
A picture of her mother lay under broken glass.
Her anger became something colder.
“They did this looking for the box.”
Vincent scanned the room.
“Where is it?”
Mave looked toward the bedroom.
“Not where they’d look.”
She knelt beside an old radiator.
There was a loose floorboard beneath it.
Vincent watched as she pulled it free.
Inside sat a small blue music box.
Paint chipped.
Silver stars faded.
Mave held it with both hands.
“My father gave me this.”
Vincent handed her the brass key.
It fit.
The lock clicked.
Inside was no jewelry.
No money.
Only a folded photograph and a tiny memory card.
Mave opened the photograph.
Her father stood beside a younger Vincent.
Both were smiling.
On the back, someone had written:
TRUST THE SON WHO SAID NO.
Mave looked at Vincent.
“What did you say no to?”
He stared at the photograph.
“A murder.”
“Whose?”
Before he could answer, a red dot appeared on his chest.
Mave saw it first.
“Vincent!”
She tackled him.
A bullet shattered the window.
Leo shouted from the hallway.
“SNIPER!”
Vincent pulled Mave behind the bed.
Another shot tore through the wall.
He grabbed the memory card from the floor.
“Mave.”
“What?”
“If we get out of here, I’m telling you everything.”
She stared at him.
“No more secrets?”
“No more.”
A voice boomed from the street below through a loudspeaker.
“Vincent Costa!”
Vincent went still.
The voice continued.
“Send out the girl.”
Mave recognized it.
Anton Voss.
May you like
Then he added:
“Or I burn the building with everyone inside.”
