Chapter 6 - THE SACRIFICE
The heavy clack of the vault door locking into place echoed down the narrow concrete corridor like a death knell.
Immediately, the intercom above my head erupted with Luca’s furious, panicked voice.
“Avery! Open the damn door! Avery!”
I ignored him. I pressed my back against the cold steel, my heart hammering a frantic, suicidal rhythm against my ribs. In my apron pocket, my fingers curled tightly around the cold, heavy gold of Luca’s pocket watch. I found the small, raised button on the side and pressed it down hard.
A tiny vibration pulsed against my palm. The beacon was active.
“Avery, I swear to God, if you walk up those stairs I will tear this house apart to get to you!” Luca’s voice cracked, the ruthless mob boss completely shattering into a desperate man.
I pressed my hand against the steel door. “Keep him safe, Luca,” I whispered, though I knew he couldn't hear me without the microphone.
I turned and walked up the stone steps toward the library.
The estate was eerily quiet now, the gunfire having ceased the moment I triggered the release. Smoke hung heavy in the air, smelling of cordite and burning wood.
When I stepped out of the hidden fireplace, David was standing in the center of the ruined library.
He looked exactly as I remembered. The tailored suit, the perfectly styled hair, the cold, flat eyes that used to convince me I was the crazy one. Three heavily armed Falcone soldiers stood behind him, their weapons leveled at my chest.
On the floor near David’s feet lay Silas, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his face pale but furious.
“Well, well,” David said, a slow, sickening smile spreading across his face. “Look who finally stopped running.”
“Let him go,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound brave. “I’m here. I’m what you want. Let Silas go.”
David chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He stepped over Silas and walked toward me, closing the distance until I could smell the familiar, sickening scent of his mint breath mints.
“You always were a martyr, Ave,” David said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
I jerked my head away from his touch.
David’s smile vanished. His hand shot out, wrapping around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off my air. I gagged, my hands flying up to claw at his wrist.
“You stole from me,” David hissed, his face inches from mine. “You took the ledger. You took the drawing. You ruined two years of planning with the Falcone family.”
“I didn't take your dirty money,” I choked out.
“I don't care about the money!” David snapped, throwing me backward. I stumbled, hitting the heavy mahogany desk. “I care about the safe! You changed the combination before you ran. The Falcones’ entire shipping manifest for the trafficking ring is locked inside, and you’re the only one who knows the code.”
I stared at him, my vision swimming. That was why he hadn't killed me yet. He couldn't. Not until I opened the safe in his apartment.
“David, let’s go,” one of the Falcone men grunted, checking his watch. “Moretti’s reinforcements will be here in less than five minutes.”
David looked at Silas bleeding on the floor. He raised his gun.
“No!” I screamed, throwing myself in front of David. “You promised! You said if I came up, he lives!”
David looked at me, his eyes dead. “I lied. He’s a Moretti man. He dies.”
“Wait!” I yelled, my mind racing. “If you shoot him, Luca will never stop hunting you. But if you leave him alive to tell Luca that I traded myself for him, Luca’s pride will be satisfied. He’ll cut his losses. He won't risk a full war for a waitress.”
It was a desperate bluff, a total mischaracterization of the man locked in the vault below us, but David’s massive ego bought it.
He slowly lowered the gun. “Fine. Let the dog bleed out.”
David grabbed my arm, his grip bruising, and dragged me out of the library.
We moved through the shattered foyer. The front doors were blown off their hinges. Outside, the rain was pouring in sheets. Two black vans were idling on the ruined driveway.
They threw me into the back of the second van. David climbed in after me, slamming the heavy sliding door shut, plunging us into darkness.
The van peeled out, tires screeching against the wet pavement.
I huddled in the corner, clutching the pocket watch in my apron.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your apartment is in Center City.”
“We aren't going to my apartment,” David sneered, pulling his phone from his pocket. “The Falcones dragged the safe out of my wall an hour ago. We’re going to the docks. Pier 9.”
My blood ran cold.
Pier 9.
The shipping containers.
“Why the docks?” I asked, a sick feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
David smiled, the blue light of his phone illuminating his cruel features. “Because, Ave, that’s where the cargo is. And Vincent Falcone wants to make sure you open that safe before the boat leaves.”
“The cargo?” I breathed.
May you like
“The little girl from your drawing,” David said casually. “Mia Moretti. She’s being shipped to a private buyer in Europe tonight. And if you don't open that safe, I’ll let you watch them put her in the box.”
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