Chapter 2 - IN THE CROSSHAIRS

The sirens wailed, echoing through the dense woods like hunting horns. Through the rear window, I saw the flashing lights of at least six squad cars blocking the dirt path we had used to enter the forest.

“They have us trapped,” I panicked, my newly awakened memories racing. As an accountant, I knew how to navigate numbers, not police barricades.

Luca didn’t panic. He reached under his seat and pulled out a heavy black case. He flipped the latches, revealing a submachine gun and several smoke grenades.

“Luca, no! You can’t shoot cops!”

“I don’t plan to,” he said, grabbing two grenades. “But we aren’t getting arrested today. If Daniel’s men have infiltrated the precinct, you and Grace won't make it to a jail cell. You’ll be dead in the back of a cruiser.”

He looked at me, his intense gaze softening for just a fraction of a second. “Do you trust me, Elena?”

I looked at the man who had hidden me, protected me, and just taken a bullet for me. “Yes.”

“When the smoke pops, put the car in reverse, smash through the brush to the left, and hit the highway going south. Don't wait for me.”

“What? No, I’m not leaving you—”

Luca opened his door. “I’ll catch up. Go!”

He sprinted out of the car, sprinting toward the tree line. Seconds later, thick white smoke exploded across the dirt road, blinding the approaching police cars. I heard shouts and the screeching of brakes.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw the SUV into reverse, cut the wheel hard to the left, and floored it. The heavy armored truck tore through the underbrush, bouncing violently before the tires finally caught the smooth asphalt of the highway.

I sped south, my eyes darting to the rearview mirror. No Luca.

“Mommy, where is Mr. Luca?” Grace cried.

“He’s going to be okay, sweetie.” I prayed it wasn't a lie.

I drove for twenty minutes, weaving through back roads until we reached the industrial district just above Broad Street. The abandoned subway terminal sat beneath a decaying warehouse. It was exactly as I remembered it from five years ago: overgrown with weeds, boarded up, and utterly forgotten.

I parked the SUV in a dark alley and hurried Grace to the rusted iron doors of the subway entrance. I pushed aside a loose piece of plywood and slipped inside the damp, cavernous space.

It smelled of mildew and old electricity.

I pulled my cell phone out, using the flashlight to navigate the old tracks. Deep in the tunnels, hidden behind a false wall of brick, was the reinforced steel door of my server room.

I approached the keypad. My fingers, trembling, typed the 16-digit alphanumeric code I had locked away in my own mind.

Click.

The heavy door swung open.

The server room hummed with power. Racks of blinking hard drives lined the walls, containing the sins of the twelve families. In the center of the room was a single computer terminal.

“We made it,” I whispered, pulling the locket from my pocket.

“Yes, you did.”

I spun around.

Standing in the doorway, a silencer-equipped pistol aimed directly at Grace, was the police detective who had told me my husband was dead five years ago. Detective Miller.

“Daniel sends his regards,” Miller said, smirking. “Hand over the microchip, Elena. And the memory card.”

I stepped in front of Grace. “You’re a cop. How can you work for him?”

“A cop’s salary doesn’t buy a house in the Hamptons. Daniel Cross does.” Miller cocked his gun. “The chip. Now.”

I reached into my pocket, stalling. My mind raced. If I gave him the card, Daniel would rule the underworld. If I didn't, he would shoot my daughter.

Before I could move, a heavy metal pipe swung out of the shadows behind Miller, striking him squarely in the back of the knees.

Miller screamed, dropping to the floor. His gun clattered across the concrete.

Standing over him, bleeding, covered in dirt, and breathing heavily, was Luca.

“I told you I’d catch up,” Luca grunted.

I let out a sob of relief. But as Luca stepped forward to kick Miller's gun away, a red laser sight pierced the darkness of the tunnel, landing squarely in the center of Luca’s chest.

“Touch the gun, Bellandi, and you’re dead,” Daniel’s voice echoed from the tunnel.