THE PRICE OF A STOLEN CRUMB

“She’s right, you know.”

The voice came from the dark alcove at the end of the hall.

A figure stepped into the dim light. It wasn't one of Victor’s men. It was Chef.

He was holding a massive, double-barreled shotgun, and it was pointed squarely at Vivienne’s chest.

Vivienne froze, her eyes darting between me and the massive man holding the gun.

“Put the gun down, Vivienne,” Chef said, his voice entirely devoid of its usual booming cheer.

Downstairs, the gunfire suddenly stopped. The silence that followed was heavy and terrifying. Had Dominic been killed?

Vivienne’s hand trembled. “If you shoot me, I pull this trigger,” she threatened, pressing the barrel of her small pistol against Emma’s shoulder.

“Lena,” a voice echoed from the bottom of the grand staircase.

I looked down.

Dominic was walking up the stairs. He was covered in dust and blood, his henley torn, but he was holding a heavy rifle. Behind him, Victor’s men were on the floor—not dead, but zip-tied and beaten.

And dragging Victor by the collar of his expensive suit was Dominic.

He threw his uncle onto the landing. Victor groaned, bleeding from his nose.

“It’s over, Victor,” Dominic said, his voice echoing in the vaulted ceiling. “You thought you bought my men. You bought the outer ring. The men inside this house have been loyal to my father since before you were born.”

Dominic had known. He hadn't been caught off guard. He had let Victor play his hand so he could expose all the traitors at once.

Dominic looked up at Vivienne. His eyes were completely void of mercy.

“Let my daughter go.”

Vivienne looked at Victor, bleeding on the floor, and realized she was entirely out of options. Her hand shook violently. She dropped her gun. It clattered against the hardwood.

I didn't wait. I sprinted forward and pulled Emma out of Vivienne’s grip, shielding the little girl with my body.

Dominic walked up the remaining stairs. He didn't even look at Vivienne as two of his loyal men appeared and grabbed her by the arms, dragging her away as she screamed.

Dominic looked down at Victor.

“You poisoned my wife,” Dominic said softly. It wasn't a question.

Victor spat blood onto the carpet. “She was looking into the accounts. She was going to ruin everything I built for this family. She was a nosy, self-righteous—”

Dominic kicked him, a brutal, sickening blow to the ribs that silenced Victor instantly.

“Where is Lena’s mother?” Dominic demanded.

Victor gasped for air, laughing weakly. “Safe. For now. You kill me, you’ll never find the facility I moved her to.”

I clutched Emma tighter, a sob tearing from my throat. Even defeated, he still held my world hostage.

Emma looked up at me. Then, she looked at her father.

“Daddy,” Emma said, her voice small but remarkably clear in the silent hallway. “He didn't move her far.”

Dominic and I both looked at her.

Emma reached into the pocket of her yellow raincoat and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

“When Uncle Victor made the driver take me to school, I heard him on the phone. He said the address twice. I wrote it down on the back of my spelling test so I wouldn't forget.”

She handed the paper to Dominic.

Victor’s face went entirely pale. The mighty, untouchable mob boss had been undone by an eight-year-old girl who knew how to listen.

Dominic looked at the address. He handed the paper to Chef.

“Send a team. Bring her mother home.”

Then, Dominic looked down at his uncle.

“Get him out of my sight,” Dominic commanded. “Take him to the warehouse. I’ll deal with him tonight.”

As the men dragged Victor away, Dominic dropped his rifle. He fell to his knees on the carpet, opening his arms.

Emma ran to him, burying her face in his chest. Dominic wrapped his massive arms around her, burying his face in her hair.