Chapter 5 - THE TRAITOR AT DAMIAN'S TABLE
Damian's arm locked around my waist before I could move toward the stairs.
"Don't."
"Daniel's down there."
"That's why Anthony wants you moving."
My brother screamed again.
Not words this time.
Pain.
I twisted against Damian.
"Let me go."
"No."
"Damian—"
"He expects emotion to make us stupid."
"That's my brother."
"And you're useful to him alive. Daniel may not be."
The words were cruel.
They were also true.
That made me hate him for saying them.
Marcus crouched beside the office door, listening.
"At least four downstairs."
"Other exits?" Damian asked.
"North stairwell. Fire ladder."
Anthony's voice rose through the building.
"You have thirty seconds."
Damian looked at Marcus.
Then at me.
"Can you follow instructions?"
"No."
"Tonight would be an excellent time to begin."
"What are you doing?"
"Giving Anthony what he thinks he wants."
Damian removed his gun and handed it to Marcus.
I stared.
"You're going downstairs unarmed?"
"No."
"You just—"
He lifted his pant leg slightly.
A second weapon rested against his ankle.
Of course.
Marcus moved toward the north corridor.
Damian caught my chin gently, forcing my eyes toward his.
"Listen carefully. You're going to walk beside me. You're frightened."
"I am frightened."
"Good. Don't pretend otherwise. Anthony knows you aren't trained. He'll believe fear."
"That's comforting."
"Keep him talking."
"About what?"
"Your father."
"And Daniel?"
"Especially Daniel."
"What are you going to do?"
"Something Anthony should have expected years ago."
The stairwell was black except for emergency lights near the floor.
We descended slowly.
At the bottom, a wide manufacturing space opened beneath steel beams.
Daniel was tied to a chair in the center.
Blood ran from his eyebrow.
Alive.
I nearly broke.
"Elena."
His voice cracked.
"I'm here."
"I'm sorry."
Anthony stood behind him with a pistol pressed against Daniel's neck.
Two men flanked him.
A third watched the entrance.
I recognized Anthony from Volante instantly.
Without the expensive jacket and wine glass, he looked colder.
Almost relieved.
"Damian."
"Anthony."
"No gun?"
Damian spread his coat.
"Search him."
One of Anthony's men approached.
My pulse jumped.
The ankle weapon.
But before the man reached Damian, Anthony said, "Forget it. Cross probably has six guns inside his skeleton."
Damian smiled faintly.
"You remembered."
"I remember everything."
"Apparently not loyalty."
Anthony's smile disappeared.
"Your father used that word too."
"And then you helped murder him."
Daniel looked at me sharply.
"What is he talking about?"
Anthony pressed the gun harder.
"Your sister will explain later."
"Let him go," I said.
Anthony looked at me.
"You really don't understand why you're here."
"No. But apparently everyone else does, so I'm tired of being the last person told."
Something in his face amused him.
"Your father was smarter than Daniel."
Daniel flinched.
"Shut up."
Anthony laughed.
"See? That's why you were always easier."
My brother's eyes closed.
I suddenly understood.
Anthony hadn't recruited Daniel recently.
This went back years.
"How long?" I asked.
Daniel didn't answer.
"How long have you known him?"
"Elena—"
"How long?"
His face folded.
"Seven years."
My stomach dropped.
My father had been alive seven years ago.
Anthony walked around the chair.
"Daniel liked cards."
I looked at my brother.
He stared at the floor.
"No."
"Underground games first," Anthony continued. "Then private tables. Then loans."
"Stop."
Daniel's voice was barely audible.
Anthony ignored him.
"Your father discovered the debt. Paid some. Refused the rest. Then discovered his company was being used to wash invoices through Cross contracts."
Damian's eyes hardened.
"My father's contracts?"
"Vincent knew some of it."
"You're lying."
"Your father knew everything eventually. That was his problem."
I held my breath.
Anthony continued.
"Henry Marlowe copied records. Names. Payments. Judges. Union officials. Contractors. Enough information to destroy businesses, careers, entire families."
"And you killed him for it?" I asked.
Daniel jerked his head up.
"What?"
Anthony smiled.
It was the worst answer possible.
My lungs stopped working.
"Dad's accident," Daniel whispered.
Four years earlier my father had driven off an icy county road.
Police called it weather.
He had been tired.
He had been alone.
Except apparently he hadn't been.
"You killed my father."
Anthony shrugged.
"I didn't personally touch his car."
My knees almost gave out.
Damian moved half a step toward him.
Anthony immediately aimed at me.
"Careful."
Damian stopped.
"What do you want?"
"The evidence."
"We don't have it."
"Henry told Elena where it was."
"He gave a riddle."
Anthony's gaze moved to me.
"Then solve it."
"And if I don't?"
Daniel cried out as Anthony struck the side of his head with the gun.
I lunged.
Damian caught me.
"Stop!"
Anthony smiled.
"Now we understand each other."
I was shaking so hard my teeth nearly clicked.
"The workshop."
"Good."
"That's where he hid it."
"I know."
"Then why do you need me?"
"Because we've spent four years tearing that building apart."
A strange thought came.
If they had searched everywhere obvious—
My mother.
Christmas money.
She didn't hide things where people wouldn't find them.
She hid them where nobody thought to look because everyone assumed the container mattered more than the space around it.
Inside flour tins.
Inside books.
Inside sewing boxes.
Not beneath floorboards.
Not safes.
Containers.
I remembered Dad's workshop office.
A shelf of old sample molding pieces.
My mother used to hide twenty-dollar bills inside hollow trim during December because Daniel always searched drawers for presents.
One Christmas she'd laughed when Dad found cash inside a baseboard sample.
"Where your father hid the truth."
I looked at Anthony.
"You bought the building through Damian's company."
His smile faded slightly.
"Did I?"
"That was you."
Damian glanced at me.
I continued.
"You needed legal control without your name appearing."
Anthony said nothing.
"So you used Cross Holdings."
"Very good."
"How?"
Damian answered.
"Authorization codes."
Anthony's eyes moved toward him.
"Your father believed paper signatures were safer."
Damian went completely still.
Marcus had said the transfer occurred four years ago.
But Damian claimed he didn't know.
Someone with high-level access had executed it.
Anthony.
"Where's Marcus?" Anthony asked suddenly.
Damian smiled.
It was subtle.
But I saw it.
Anthony saw it too.
His expression changed.
A shot exploded from the catwalk above.
One of Anthony's men dropped his weapon, clutching his shoulder.
Chaos followed.
Damian moved before I could process anything.
His hidden gun appeared.
He shoved me behind a steel column.
Daniel threw himself sideways with the chair.
Anthony fired.
Marcus fired back.
Emergency lights flashed as bullets struck metal.
I crawled toward Daniel.
"Elena, no!"
Too late.
I reached him and pulled at the ropes.
"Can you stand?"
"My hands—"
"I'll get them."
A man rushed around the column.
Before I could scream, Daniel kicked outward with both feet, chair and all.
The attacker fell.
I grabbed his dropped knife.
My hands slipped once.
Then the rope parted.
Daniel collapsed against me.
Across the room, Anthony ran through a side door.
Damian saw him.
"Marcus!"
"I've got these."
Damian started after Anthony.
I caught his sleeve.
"Don't."
He looked back.
"If he gets away—"
"He wants you chasing him."
"And I want him breathing long enough to talk."
"Damian."
Something in my voice stopped him.
I pointed toward the doorway Anthony had used.
A tiny red light blinked on the frame.
Damian saw it.
Explosive.
Or alarm.
I didn't know.
He backed away.
Three seconds later the corridor erupted.
Heat punched through the doorway.
Daniel dragged me down.
Damian covered both of us as debris rained from the ceiling.
When the noise stopped, Marcus shouted from across the room.
"We need out. Now."
The explosion had started a fire.
We ran through the north exit.
Outside, rain hit my face.
Daniel collapsed on the pavement.
I knelt beside him.
"Look at me."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that."
"No." He grabbed my wrist. "You don't understand. Elena, the debt wasn't just to pressure you."
"What?"
"They needed the apartment."
"Why?"
"Dad hid something there."
"No. The letter said the workshop."
Daniel shook his head frantically.
"The evidence is at the workshop."
"Then what's in the apartment?"
He looked toward Damian.
Fear changed his face.
"A key."
Damian crouched beside us.
"What kind of key?"
Daniel swallowed.
"Vincent Cross gave it to Dad the night before he died."
Damian froze.
Daniel continued.
"Dad hid it somewhere in Elena's apartment because he said if Anthony ever found it, Damian would lose more than his father."
Damian's voice went low.
"What does it open?"
May you like
Daniel looked directly at him.
"Your mother's grave."
