Chapter 9 - The Safe Room
Victor Vale’s Fifth Avenue townhouse had four layers of private security.
Damian knew all four.
That worried me.
“You’ve been there before?”
“Many times.”
“For business?”
“Yes.”
“Only business?”
He gave me a look.
“What exactly are you asking?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
Cassandra sat across from us in the armored SUV.
Even terrified, she managed to look annoyed.
“How touching.”
I ignored her.
The plan was not to storm the house.
Despite Damian’s reputation, he preferred warrants.
Evidence.
Leverage.
Federal agents were already moving.
Cassandra signed a preliminary cooperation agreement.
Alvarez coordinated with a federal prosecutor named Naomi Chen.
Victor did not know.
At least, we hoped he didn’t.
Cassandra would enter first.
Damian twenty minutes later under the pretense of negotiating.
Federal agents would wait until Cassandra confirmed the ledger was present.
I was supposed to remain at the command location.
Naturally, I hated that.
“You are not entering.”
Damian said for the sixth time.
“I heard you the first five.”
“You’re making the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you agree while planning to disobey me.”
Cassandra looked between us.
“Do you two always sound married?”
“No.”
We said it together.
She rolled her eyes.
“God.”
At 9:10 p.m., Cassandra entered the townhouse.
At 9:31, she sent the code.
Bluebird.
The music box was there.
At 9:34, Damian entered.
At 9:49, Cassandra stopped responding.
At 9:52, Damian’s tracker stopped transmitting.
Naomi Chen ordered agents forward.
That was when the townhouse exploded.
Not dramatically.
No fireball.
A controlled blast blew out part of the rear service entrance.
Smoke filled the alley.
Security cameras went black.
Radio communications failed.
Victor had prepared.
I watched agents rush forward.
Then someone grabbed me from behind.
A hand covered my mouth.
I drove my heel backward.
Connected with a shin.
The grip loosened.
I turned.
One of the federal support officers.
Except he wasn’t.
His badge looked right.
His eyes didn’t.
Damian’s lesson.
Shoes.
Hands.
Reflections.
His shoes had no wear.
Brand-new.
A disguise assembled too quickly.
I screamed.
He reached inside his jacket.
I slammed a metal flashlight into his wrist.
The gun fell.
Another agent tackled him.
My heart nearly tore through my ribs.
Naomi looked at me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re bleeding.”
I looked down.
My palm had been cut.
“Not important.”
Inside the townhouse, agents found two dead guards.
One wounded federal agent.
Cassandra unconscious in the library.
No Victor.
No Damian.
There was a tunnel.
Of course there was.
Rich criminals loved tunnels.
The safe room had been emptied.
The music box was gone.
But Cassandra had hidden one thing.
A note.
Pressed into her palm.
Pier 19.
I showed Naomi.
She immediately deployed teams.
The original warehouse at Pier 19 no longer existed.
The land belonged to a redevelopment company.
Volkov Development.
Damian’s company.
He had built luxury storage facilities there five years earlier.
One building had a basement not listed on public plans.
Damian knew.
Victor knew he knew.
That was where they went.
I followed the agents.
No one had time to stop me.
The basement smelled like concrete and river water.
We entered through a loading bay.
Gunfire echoed deeper inside.
Agents moved ahead.
I stayed behind Naomi.
For once.
Then I heard Damian’s voice.
“Don’t.”
A gunshot.
My body moved before my brain.
We entered a storage chamber.
Victor stood near the far wall.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
Gun in hand.
Damian knelt on the floor.
Blood ran down one side of his face.
Another man held a gun behind him.
The music box sat on a crate.
Victor saw me.
His smile appeared slowly.
“Sofia Reyes.”
I had imagined meeting the man who might have ordered my father’s death.
In those imaginary versions, I was brave.
Elegant.
Devastating.
In reality, my legs shook.
My mouth went dry.
But I stepped forward anyway.
“Victor.”
Damian looked at me.
His expression became furious.
“What are you doing here?”
“Apparently making your night worse.”
Victor laughed.
“Gabriel had that same irritating courage.”
My fear became rage.
“You knew him.”
“Oh, yes.”
“He was very persistent.”
“Did you kill him?”
Naomi moved slightly beside me.
Victor noticed.
His gun remained on Damian.
“Such an ugly word.”
“Did you?”
“He made a choice.”
My stomach turned.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only one you’ll get.”
Damian spoke.
“She is not part of this.”
Victor smiled.
“Everyone is part of this.”
“That was Gabriel’s mistake.”
“He thought morality made him separate.”
“It didn’t.”
“It just made him inconvenient.”
I wanted to cross the room.
I wanted to hurt him.
Instead, I remembered Damian.
Fear is information.
Anger is too.
I looked around.
Three exits.
Two armed men.
Victor.
Music box.
Sprinkler line overhead.
Emergency alarm near the wall.
Then I saw a reflection in polished steel.
Another federal team entering behind Victor.
Quiet.
Naomi needed time.
So I gave it.
“You watched my family for sixteen years?”
Victor looked pleased.
“Off and on.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother was frightened.”
“Frightened people hide things.”
“Your father was clever.”
“He scattered evidence.”
“We found most.”
“Not all.”
“The locket.”
“Yes.”
His smile vanished slightly.
“That was disappointing.”
“So Cassandra failed you.”
“She has always disappointed me.”
A voice came from behind us.
“I heard that.”
Cassandra stood at the entrance.
Bruised.
Supported by an agent.
Victor’s face changed.
“Cassandra.”
“You killed Adrian.”
He said nothing.
“You killed my brother.”
“He betrayed this family.”
“No.”
She stepped forward.
“You did.”
Victor raised his gun.
Everything happened at once.
Damian moved.
The agent behind Victor fired.
Naomi shouted.
Cassandra dropped.
I hit the alarm.
A deafening siren filled the chamber.
Sprinklers activated.
Victor fired once.
Twice.
Then fell.
His gun slid across wet concrete.
The second armed man surrendered.
Damian stood.
Blood on his shirt.
Not his.
He looked at me.
Then crossed the room and grabbed my shoulders.
“What did I tell you?”
“That I wasn’t entering.”
“And?”
“I disagreed internally.”
“Sofia.”
“You’re alive.”
“Because federal agents were behind him.”
“I saw them.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes.”
His anger paused.
“You were stalling.”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“You are impossible.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Then he pulled me against him.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Desperate.
Human.
For five seconds, I heard only his breathing.
Then he let go.
Too quickly.
Victor survived.
The bullet hit his shoulder.
Federal agents arrested him before the ambulance arrived.
The music box was recovered.
Inside was exactly what Anton promised.
The Northstar ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Shipment records.
Murder instructions.
Bribes.
Enough evidence to destroy careers across three states.
Enough to reopen my father’s death.
Enough to investigate Mikhail Volkov’s murder.
Enough to finally understand why powerful people had been afraid for seventeen years.
But one page was missing.
Torn cleanly from the back.
Damian noticed first.
“What was on it?”
No one knew.
Then Cassandra whispered from the stretcher.
“I do.”
We turned.
“My father kept one name off every digital record.”
“Whose?”
She looked at Damian.
“Your uncle.”
Damian’s face went still.
“I don’t have an uncle.”
Cassandra swallowed.
“Yes.”
May you like
She said.
“You do.”
