Chapter 4 - THE GIRL IN THE TOWER
“Daughter?” Nora repeated, stepping back. “You don't have a daughter. The press, the street... nobody has ever mentioned—”
“Because if they knew she existed, she’d be a target,” Julian interrupted, shoving his phone into his pocket and grabbing his ruined coat. “Her name is Mia. She’s seven. When her mother died, my rivals tried to use her to control me. That’s why your brother died, Nora. Leo was my getaway driver. He drove Mia to a safe house in upstate New York, drawing the hitmen away from her. He saved her life.”
Nora’s chest tightened, a sob threatening to break free. For two years, the police told her Leo had been drinking, that he took a corner too fast. But he hadn't. He had died a hero.
“Where is she now?” Nora demanded, grabbing the keys with the St. Christopher medal.
“St. Jude’s Academy. A private boarding school fifty miles north. I pay the headmaster to keep her under a fake name.” Julian swayed slightly as he stood, the blood loss taking its toll.
“Get in the car,” Nora said, her fear completely replaced by a fierce, burning resolve.
They tore up the I-94 northbound, pushing the Range Rover to a hundred miles an hour. The rain turned to sleet, battering the windshield. Julian spent the drive loading fresh magazines into his Glock, his movements sharp but mechanical.
“Who sent Marcus?” Nora asked, keeping her eyes on the treacherous road.
“I don’t know. I’ve eliminated most of my enemies. The only people left with the resources to coordinate a hit like this are the Five Families, and I have truces with all of them.”
They reached the wrought-iron gates of St. Jude’s just past midnight. The campus was eerily dark, nestled against the edge of a dense forest. There were no guards at the gate. The security booth was empty, the glass shattered.
Julian swore violently.
Nora killed the engine and they moved on foot through the freezing rain, sticking to the shadows of the old stone buildings. They reached the dormitory. The front doors were forced open.
“Second floor. Room 14,” Julian whispered, his gun raised.
They crept up the wooden staircase. The silence was suffocating. Every shadow looked like a man with a gun. When they reached Room 14, the door was ajar.
Julian kicked it open, sweeping the room.
It was empty. The bed was unmade. A child’s backpack lay discarded on the rug.
Julian dropped to his knees, letting out a raw, broken sound that tore at Nora’s heart. He picked up a small, stuffed rabbit from the floor. “No, no, no...”
Nora walked slowly into the room, her eyes scanning for clues. That’s when she saw it. Resting perfectly in the center of the child’s pillow, gleaming in the moonlight, was a heavy, gold pocket watch.
She picked it up. The cover was etched with a complex crest—an eagle clutching a snake.
Julian looked up, his eyes locking onto the watch. His breath caught. “Don't touch that.”
“What is it?” Nora asked.
“It belongs to Silas,” Julian said, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. “My uncle. The man who raised me in the syndicate.”
“I thought your uncle died of a heart attack five years ago,” Nora said, recalling the massive news coverage of the mob boss’s funeral.
“So did I,” Julian said, taking the watch. He popped the latch. The hands were completely frozen at exactly 12:00. But tucked inside the cover was a tiny, folded piece of paper.
Julian unfolded it. It was written in neat, elegant cursive.
I always told you, Julian. Family requires sacrifice. Come home.
May you like
Nora looked at the frozen hands of the watch, her mechanic’s brain analyzing the object. She brought it to her ear. It wasn't ticking. But there was a very faint, high-pitched electronic hum coming from the gold casing.
“Julian,” she whispered, her eyes going wide. “It’s a tracker. He wanted you to find it. They’re coming right now.”
