Chapter 13 - THE SHADOW IN THE HALLWAY
The blood froze in my veins.
"Pancakes," the voice whispered again, closer this time, echoing down the ventilation shaft.
Answer one: David Vance had been in the greenhouse that night. He had been tracking Vanessa, tracking me, and tracking the boy. He had heard our secret word.
Open two: How did David get past Luca and Silas? And how was he going to get through a reinforced steel door?
"Don't make a sound, Leo," I breathed, pressing the boy’s face into my shoulder.
I backed away from the vent, dragging us into the furthest corner of the dark panic room. My hand desperately searched the floor until my fingers wrapped around a heavy, iron flashlight I had seen on the supply shelf earlier. It wasn't much of a weapon against a trained Syndicate hitman, but I wasn't going to let him take my son without a fight.
Suddenly, the hissing sound of a blowtorch echoed from the other side of the steel door.
Bright orange sparks began to rain down from the heavy hinges. The smell of melting metal filled the small room.
He was cutting his way in.
"Luca!" I screamed, hoping my voice would carry through the vents. "Luca, help!"
The sparks intensified. The heavy steel door groaned. With a violent screech of tearing metal, the top hinge gave way. The door sagged inward.
A heavy boot kicked the door. Once. Twice.
The secondary deadbolt shattered, and the door swung open, crashing against the wine racks outside.
A figure stepped into the dim light of the cellar hallway.
David Vance didn't look like a frail man recovering from a coma. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing black tactical gear. In his right hand, he held a suppressed pistol.
In his left hand, dangling from a silver chain, was Eleanor's tarnished pocket watch.
"Hello, Natalie," David said softly, stepping into the panic room. His eyes locked onto Leo. "It's time to give the boy back."
"He's not yours!" I screamed, stepping in front of Leo, raising the heavy iron flashlight like a club. "You killed his real father! You tried to kill him!"
"I tried to correct a mistake," David said coldly, raising the pistol and pointing it directly at my chest. "Marco stole my wife. She stole my pride. Now, I'm taking the boy to the Commission, collecting fifteen million dollars, and buying a new life. Put the flashlight down, or I put a bullet in your lung."
I didn't lower my arm. I tightened my grip. If I died, I was going to die protecting the boy I loved.
"You'll have to kill me," I spat.
Reversal: David sighed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "As you wish."
He didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
But the gun didn't fire.
A deafening, echoing BANG shattered the silence of the wine cellar, but the bullet didn't hit me.
David Vance stiffened. His eyes widened in absolute shock. He looked down at his own chest, where a dark crimson stain was rapidly blooming across his black tactical vest.
David stumbled forward, dropping the suppressed pistol. He fell to his knees on the concrete floor, staring blankly ahead.
Behind him, standing in the doorway of the shattered panic room, was a figure holding a smoking, heavy-caliber revolver.
It wasn't Luca. It wasn't Silas.
Cliffhanger: It was Eleanor Vance.
The elderly florist was trembling violently, her silver hair wild, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. She held the smoking gun with both hands.
David looked back over his shoulder at the woman who had spent six years searching for him.
"Mom?" David choked out, blood spilling from his mouth.
May you like
Eleanor lowered the gun, her chest heaving with the weight of the ultimate sacrifice.
"You are not my son," Eleanor whispered, her voice breaking with grief. "You are a monster."
