Chapter 4 - PIER NINETEEN
At 11:47 p.m., I stood inside an abandoned warehouse at Pier Nineteen.
Grace stood beside me.
No guards were visible.
That didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Marcus had argued.
“You’re walking into a kill box.”
“I know.”
“With a civilian.”
“She’s Amara’s mother.”
“That doesn’t make her bulletproof.”
Grace looked at him.
“I’m going.”
Marcus hated it.
So did I.
But the kidnapper had been clear.
At midnight, the warehouse lights came on.
One by one.
A man stepped from behind a shipping container.
He wore a dark coat and leather gloves.
No mask.
Grace inhaled sharply.
I recognized him.
Vincent Moretti.
My father’s oldest friend.
The man who taught me how to fire a pistol when I was thirteen.
The man who stood beside me at Sophia’s funeral.
“Uncle Vince.”
He smiled.
“I always hated that name.”
Every memory I had of him turned rotten in one second.
“Where’s the girl?”
“Safe.”
Grace shook with rage.
“You murdered my husband.”
Vince barely looked at her.
“Your husband murdered himself when he grew a conscience.”
She stepped forward.
I stopped her.
“Amara.”
Vince sighed.
“You’ve become sentimental, Julian.”
“She’s three.”
“So was my grandson when your father had his father killed.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Vince’s expression hardened.
“You think your family built its empire without graves?”
“My father died ten years ago.”
“Yes. And you inherited every debt he left behind.”
“This is about him?”
“It started with him.”
I raised my voice.
“You killed Elena and Sophia because of something my father did?”
His jaw tightened.
“Elena was never supposed to be in that vehicle.”
My stomach turned.
“What?”
“The car was meant for you.”
Grace looked at me.
Vince continued.
“You were supposed to attend the charity dinner. Your wife took the SUV because you canceled.”
My thoughts exploded backward.
Elena standing in our bedroom.
You promised Sophia you’d come.
Me answering my phone.
One meeting.
That was all.
One meeting.
Vince watched my face.
“You weren’t supposed to lose them.”
“You sabotaged my car.”
“Yes.”
“You murdered my family.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“I ordered a warning.”
“A warning that killed a six-year-old!”
For the first time, he looked ashamed.
“Your daughter was not part of the plan.”
I drew my gun.
“And that changes what?”
Nothing.
But before I could fire, a child’s voice cried out above us.
“Mommy!”
We looked up.
Amara stood on a metal catwalk.
A man held her by the arm.
Grace screamed.
“Let her go!”
Vince lifted one hand.
“Give me the key.”
“We don’t have it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then search the rabbit.”
The guard handed him Amara’s stuffed toy.
Vince cut it open.
Cotton fell out.
No key.
He stared at Grace.
“You moved it.”
Grace looked just as shocked as he did.
Then Amara sniffed.
“I gave it to Mister Julian.”
Everyone turned toward me.
I froze.
Amara pointed at my chest.
“When I hugged you at dinner.”
My hand went to my jacket pocket.
I felt something small and metal.
May you like
A key.
And suddenly every gun in the warehouse pointed at me.
