Chapter 6
Marco survived.
Barely.
The bullet tore through his shoulder and missed the artery by less than an inch.
At the hospital, I stood outside surgery still wearing his blood on my sleeves.
Nico sat beside me in his wheelchair, silent.
Not weak silent.
Not ashamed silent.
Planning silent.
Luca came down the hall at midnight.
“We have Sophia.”
I exhaled so hard my knees almost gave out.
Nico closed his eyes.
“Safe?”
“Scared. Unhurt. She was at the school. Two men watching from a car.”
“And the men?”
Luca’s mouth tightened.
“Gone before we arrived.”
Nico looked at Detective Wells.
“Dominic.”
“Likely.”
“No,” Nico said. “Marco said Dominic isn’t in charge.”
Detective Wells glanced toward me.
“We need to consider the possibility someone in your household coordinated access.”
Edna.
Guards.
Drivers.
Medical staff.
Lawyers.
Men who called him boss.
People who watched him fall and did nothing.
Nico’s hands tightened on his wheels.
“List everyone with access to my medication, schedule, vehicles, and legal documents.”
Luca nodded.
“It’s already started.”
I leaned against the wall.
Wes’s surgery.
Nico’s crash.
Marco’s daughter.
Everything connected through pressure points.
Someone had mapped every vulnerable person around Nico.
That kind of map did not come from Camille alone.
At two in the morning, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photo appeared.
Wes asleep on Mrs. Patel’s couch.
My blood turned cold.
Then a message.
Security is only useful when it watches the right door.
I showed Nico.
His face changed.
Not panic.
Something worse.
Guilt.
He called Luca before I could.
“Wes. Now.”
Luca sprinted.
I tried to follow, but Nico caught my hand.
“Adeline.”
“Don’t tell me to stay.”
“I’m telling you to breathe.”
“My brother—”
“Will have half my men around him in four minutes.”
“And if four minutes is too late?”
He had no answer.
That honesty nearly broke me.
We raced to Cicero.
Nico insisted on coming.
Detective Wells followed.
When we reached my apartment building, the hallway smelled like old radiator heat and fear.
The guard outside Mrs. Patel’s door was unconscious.
Alive.
A bump on his head.
The door was open.
I ran inside.
“Wes!”
Mrs. Patel sat on the floor crying.
“They took him.”
My vision blackened.
Nico caught me before I fell.
“No.”
Mrs. Patel sobbed.
“Two men. They had hospital badges. They said surgery authorization changed. Wes believed them because they knew your name.”
My hands shook.
My little brother had walked out because my job had taught him powerful people could fix things.
I turned on Nico.
His face was pale.
“I will get him back.”
“I don’t need a promise.”
“You have one anyway.”
Detective Wells found the first clue on the kitchen table.
A paper crane.
Wes had folded it from a hospital pamphlet.
Inside, written in pencil, were three letters.
E H A.
I frowned.
“What is EHA?”
Nico went still.
“East Harbor Annex.”
Luca, who had just arrived, cursed.
“That building is Alfieri property.”
“Who uses it?” Detective Wells asked.
Nico’s voice was low.
“No one should.”
We reached East Harbor Annex before dawn.
The building was an old cold-storage facility, supposedly empty.
But light glowed through the second-floor windows.
Luca’s men surrounded it.
Police moved in quietly.
I sat in the back of the SUV shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone.
Nico turned to me.
“Wes left the crane because he knew you would understand.”
“He’s seven.”
“He’s yours.”
That should not have comforted me.
It did.
The raid lasted six minutes.
Six minutes can break a lifetime.
Then Detective Wells came through the loading dock carrying Wes.
He was awake.
Crying.
Alive.
I ran so fast I nearly fell.
Wes reached for me.
“Addie!”
I pulled him into my arms.
He smelled like dust and panic.
“They said if I cried, your boss would fire you,” he sobbed.
I held him tighter.
“No job is worth you.”
Nico rolled closer.
Wes looked at him.
“You’re the mafia friend?”
Nico blinked.
Then, despite everything, laughed once.
“I suppose.”
Wes wiped his face.
“You need better security.”
Luca muttered, “I like him.”
Inside the warehouse, police found hospital badges, burner phones, and a printed schedule for Nico’s medication.
They also found a file labeled:
POST-WEDDING TRANSFER.
Nico read it in the SUV.
His face went still.
“What is it?” I asked.
He handed it to me.
After Camille married Nico, his medical incompetency petition would be filed.
His shares would transfer to a conservatorship.
The proposed conservator was not Camille.
It was Nico’s uncle.
Salvatore Alfieri.
Luca whispered, “No.”
May you like
Nico stared at the warehouse.
“My own blood.”
