The Twin in the Shadows

The heavy metal of the gun shook in my grip. I stared at the man who had ordered me around for two years, the man who had murdered my mother in a hospital bed.

"Do it, Grace," Vincent said quietly from behind me, cradling his nephew. "He took your mother. Take his life."

Frank whimpered, pressing his head against the brick wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I looked at the black stone ring on Frank's finger. The mark of men who believed blood solved everything. I thought of my mother, who had risked everything to protect an innocent child. She didn't raise a killer.

I lowered the gun.

"No," I said, my voice steadying. "He doesn't get the easy way out."

I brought the heavy steel handle of the gun down hard against Frank's temple. He collapsed instantly, unconscious.

I turned back to Vincent. "We take him with us. When we reach the FBI field office downtown, Frank is going to testify to everything Daniel did. He's our proof."

Vincent looked at me, a deep respect settling in his eyes. He nodded. "The Union Station. I have a private train car waiting on track four. It's fully funded and untraceable."

Ten minutes later, we were in Vincent's sedan. Isabella sat in the back with the baby, weeping quietly as she rocked him. I sat in the passenger seat, my father's letter still burning a hole in my pocket.

We sped through the empty streets of Chicago, the glow of the burning Foundation building lighting up the rearview mirror.

"Vincent," I said softly. "Why did my father have the black stone ring?"

Vincent kept his eyes on the road. "Because Thomas Bennett wasn't just a driver. He was my father's enforcer. He was the most feared man in the Moretti family."

The revelation hit me like a physical blow. My gentle father, who fixed broken birdhouses and taught me to bake bread, had been a mafia hitman.

"When Eleanor asked him to save Anthony," Vincent continued, "Thomas realized the life he was living. He took the boy, walked away from the family, and swore he would never shed another drop of blood. He became a ghost to protect you."

Tears blurred my vision. My parents had carried the weight of an empire to give me a normal life.

We arrived at Union Station. The massive terminal was dark and echoing. We hurried down to track four. The sleek, silver train car sat waiting, steam hissing from the undercarriage.

But as we approached the boarding steps, the heavy doors of the train car slid open.

Three men in dark suits stepped out, raising automatic rifles.

And standing behind them was a woman wearing an expensive cream-colored coat.