Chapter 4 - Ghost of the Past
The silence in the war room was absolute.
“It’s a trap, Boss,” Marco said, walking back into the room. “Pier 42 is an open kill zone. Once you step inside that silo with those deeds, Vane’s snipers will take you out from the surrounding catwalks.”
“I don't care,” Victor said instantly, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair. “He has Finn.”
“Victor, listen to Marco!” I grabbed his forearm, forcing him to look at me. “Luciano doesn't just want the terminals. He wants to end the Rossi line completely. If you walk in there blind, he kills you, he kills me, and Finn has no one left!”
“Then what do you propose, Harper?!” Victor shouted, his composure shattering again. “We have four hours! Four hours until he decides my son is too much of a burden!”
“We use what we know,” I said, my mind racing. “Luciano said Finn wouldn't stop crying. He said he keeps asking for me.”
I looked at the floor where Finn’s star nightlight had been.
“When Finn gets terrified, he doesn't just cry,” I explained, my voice dropping into a sharp, analytical register. “He freezes. He hyperventilates. If he’s talking, if he’s asking for me, it means he isn't completely catatonic yet. He’s doing the anchor exercise.”
Victor frowned. “The what?”
“The grounding exercise I taught him,” I said, tears shining in my eyes. “One thing you can see, one thing you can touch, one thing you can hear. Victor... Finn is smart. He’s your son. If he’s doing that exercise, he’s looking for details.”
Victor stared at me, a spark of realization lighting up his grey eyes.
“Marco,” Victor barked. “Did the tech team trace any background audio from Luciano’s transmission?”
The tech operative hit a few keys. “There was a low-frequency hum, Boss. Sounded like an industrial refrigeration unit or a heavy generator.”
“Pier 42 doesn't have power,” Victor said, his eyes narrowing. “The city cut the electricity to those docks six months ago. Luciano isn't at Pier 42.”
“He’s using Pier 42 as a drop site to kill you,” I realized, the pieces falling into place. “Where are the working cold-storage warehouses near the river?”
“The meatpacking district in Union Stockyards,” Marco answered immediately. “The old Rossi-Vane boundary line.”
Victor turned to his lieutenants. A terrifying, beautiful smile spread across his face—the smile of a predator who had just spotted his prey.
“Marco, take twenty men to Pier 42. Make a big show of setting up a perimeter. Let Luciano’s spotters think I’m walking into their trap.”
“And you, Boss?”
Victor reached into the heavy wooden cabinet on the wall, pulling out two sleek, black tactical handguns and checking the chambers with practiced ease.
“I’m going to the Stockyards,” Victor said coldly. “And I’m bringing my son home.”
He turned to me, holding out a small, bulletproof tactical vest designed to be worn under a coat.
“Put this on,” he commanded softly.
I looked at the black kevlar. “You’re taking me?”
“You heard Luciano,” Victor said, his hand reaching out to touch the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. “Finn needs his anchor. And today... I think I need mine too.”
May you like
My breath hitched. For a second, surrounded by weapons and men preparing for war, I looked into Victor’s eyes and saw the man who had repaired his son’s toy train in the dark.
“I’m ready,” I whispered.
