Chapter 4 - Bloodlines and Boardrooms
Emmet moved with astonishing speed, his imposing frame shifting instantly so that his body blocked the sight of the bloodstain on his sleeve from the little girl's view.
"Hey, kiddo," Noel said quickly, her voice softening as she walked over and knelt beside her sister. "This is... this is Mr. Sartori. He works with me."
Sadie looked up at Emmet, tilting her head. "Are you the mean boss who doesn't like my sister?"
Noel’s face flushed red. "Sadie!"
Emmet didn't flinch. Instead, he crouched down, bringing his tall frame down to Sadie’s eye level. The terrifying mafia boss looked remarkably gentle, his eyes softening as he met the little girl’s gaze.
"I used to be," Emmet said honestly. "But I came to apologize. And to bring your sister a birthday cake that actually has fresh fruit on it."
Sadie’s eyes lit up as she glanced at the raspberry pastry inside the wooden box. "Can I have a raspberry?"
"Sadie, it's late," Noel cautioned gently.
"One raspberry," Emmet said, offering a small, warm grin. He picked up the freshest berry from the crust and held it out. Sadie took it with a wide smile, popping it into her mouth.
"Now back to bed, little queen," Emmet said softly, tapping the paper crown on the counter. "Your sister and I have grown-up business to finish."
Sadie looked at Noel, who nodded reassuringly. "Go back to bed, honey. I’ll come tuck you in in a minute."
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, the heavy reality of their situation rushed back into the room.
"You can't stay here tonight, Noel," Emmet said, his tone turning crisp and authoritative once more. "Vincent’s enforcers are already scouring the lower districts. If they trace the customs clearance back to this address, they will be through that door by dawn."
"I can't just abandon my apartment!" Noel protested. "Everything we own is here!"
"Things can be replaced. Lives cannot," Emmet replied coldly. "Pack one bag for you and one for Sadie. Only the essentials. My security team is waiting in the alley behind the building."
Noel felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Just three hours ago, she was an invisible secretary eating dry pasta under a broken lamp. Now, she was caught in the crosshairs of an underworld civil war.
"Where are you taking us?"
"To my estate in Beacon Hill," Emmet said, turning toward the window and parting the blinds with two fingers. "It’s a fortress. Vincent wouldn't dare bring an open assault to my front gates."
Noel hurried into the bedroom, packing a duffel bag with Sadie’s inhalers, medications, warm clothes, and schoolbooks. Sadie, half-awake and confused, allowed Noel to wrap her in a thick winter coat.
Within ten minutes, they were creeping down the dark back stairwell of the brick walk-up. The autumn wind bit at Noel’s face as they emerged into the alleyway. A sleek, armored black SUV sat idling, its headlights dimmed to faint amber slits.
Two massive men in dark suits stepped out, their hands hovering discreetly near their jackets.
"Mr. Sartori," one of them said, nodding respectfully. "Perimeter is clear, but we spotted a scout vehicle two blocks east on Tremont."
"Move fast," Emmet commanded, opening the heavy rear door for Noel and Sadie. "Get us to the estate via the river route."
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As Noel climbed into the plush leather interior, she looked back up at the third-floor window of her little apartment. The gooseneck lamp was still glowing yellow through the thin curtains. She had spent five years scraping together a life in that tiny space, and in a single night, it had evaporated into the shadows of Emmet Sartori's war.
Emmet slid into the seat beside her, the heavy door thudding shut with the finality of a bank vault. The SUV lunged forward into the rain-slicked streets.
