Chapter 2 - IN THE CROSSHAIRS

The headlights blinded me, but I didn’t need to see his face. The smooth, arrogant cadence of his voice sent a violent shockwave through my chest.

Daniel.

He stepped out of the headlights' glare, wearing a tailored charcoal suit, looking exactly as he had five years ago. He didn’t look like a man who had been running for his life. He looked like a king.

“Daddy?” Grace whispered from the back seat.

My heart fractured. She barely remembered him, but the photo in the rabbit had just planted his face fresh in her mind.

“Stay in the car, Grace,” I hissed, stepping in front of her door.

Luca raised his gun, aiming directly at Daniel’s head. “You have exactly three seconds to step away from the exit, Cross, or I’ll paint this garage with you.”

Daniel chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Luca, always the brute. I’m not here to fight. I’m here for what belongs to me. My archive. My daughter. And my architect.” He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with a predatory darkness. “Did you miss me, Elena?”

“You’re a monster,” I choked out. “You left us with nothing. You let me think you were dead.”

“I had to go underground to build my empire,” Daniel said smoothly. “But now, the families are weak. With that card, and the key around your neck, I can finally take my rightful place. Toss them over, and I’ll let you and Grace walk out of here.”

“You’re not taking them,” Luca snarled.

Daniel smiled. “I wasn’t asking.”

He snapped his fingers. From the shadows, three armed men stepped forward, raising assault rifles.

We were completely outgunned.

“Elena,” Luca murmured, his voice so low only I could hear. “When I shoot the lights, get in the driver's seat and floor it. Do not stop.”

“What about you?”

“Do it!”

Luca didn’t shoot Daniel. He fired straight up, shattering the massive fluorescent bulbs above us. The garage plunged into pitch blackness.

Gunfire erupted. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off the armored SUV.

I dove into the driver’s seat, slamming the door. I blindly fumbled for the ignition. It was push-to-start. The engine roared to life.

In the headlights’ flash, I saw Luca tackle Daniel to the concrete.

I couldn’t leave him. I threw the car into drive, stomped the gas, and swerved the heavy vehicle directly toward the gunmen. They dove out of the way. I slammed the brakes next to Luca, throwing the passenger door open.

“Get in!” I screamed.

Luca kicked Daniel in the chest, broke away, and hurled himself into the SUV. I hit the gas before he even closed the door, smashing through the wooden security gate of the garage and tearing out onto the winding coastal road.

We drove in terrified silence for twenty minutes. Grace was weeping softly in the back.

“Are you hit?” I asked Luca, my hands gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles were white.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, holding his side. He wasn’t fine. There was blood on his shirt, but he waved me off. “Keep driving. Head toward the old docks.”

“Luca, I don't understand any of this. If I built that archive, why don’t I remember?”

Luca leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling a ragged breath. “Because five years ago, you came to me for help. You told me you found out what Daniel was doing. You wanted an out for you and Grace.”

I stared at the road, my mind spinning. “I came to a mafia boss for help?”

“I’m the only boss who wanted the Commission dismantled,” Luca said quietly. “You offered me a deal. You would build a backdoor into the archive, destroying all twelve families, if I protected you. But Daniel found out. He injected you with a chemical paralytic used in interrogations. It wiped your episodic memory. By the time my men rescued you, your past was gone.”

Tears blurred my vision. “Then why didn't you tell me? Why let me work as your maid?”

“Because keeping you close, as a nobody, was the only way to keep you invisible from Daniel,” he said softly.

Suddenly, Grace spoke from the back seat.

“Mommy. The rabbit is vibrating.”

I slammed on the brakes, pulling the SUV to the shoulder. I snatched the blue rabbit from her lap. It wasn't vibrating. There was a hard, mechanical ticking sound coming from deep inside the stuffing.

I ripped the seam open further.

Nested against the cotton was a small, black GPS tracker. A blinking red light pulsed steadily.

Daniel hadn’t just tracked us.