Chapter 3 - The Fortress on the Harbor
The motion of the vehicle was smooth, almost silent.
I sat in the leather passenger seat of a black Maybach, staring out the tinted window as the dark industrial buildings of the Baltimore waterfront blurred into a wash of gray rain.
Augustus Falcone sat beside me.
He had not spoken a single word since carrying me out of the warehouse.
He stared straight ahead, his hands resting calmly on his knees.
I pulled my torn blouse tightly across my chest, shivering despite the interior heater humming softly.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally whispered, my voice trembling.
Falcone didn't look at me.
“To my home,” he replied.
“Why?”
He turned his head slowly.
His cold gray eyes examined me with clinical detachment.
“You don't know who I am, do you?”
“No,” I answered honestly.
“I am Augustus Falcone,” he said, as if stating the weather. “Men in this city lose their sleep at the mere sound of my name. Your stepfamily sold you to a monster to erase a paper debt. Do you understand what that means?”
“It means I have no family left,” I said, a bitter tear escaping my eye.
“It means,” Falcone corrected, his voice dropping an octave, “that you are now my responsibility. And in my world, what belongs to me remains untouched.”
The car turned sharply, passing through a pair of massive wrought-iron gates guarded by armed sentries.
We entered a sprawling estate situated on a high cliff overlooking the choppy waters of the Chesapeake Bay.
A towering stone mansion loomed ahead, dark and imposing against the stormy night sky.
The vehicle glided to a halt beneath the grand marble portico.
Before I could reach for the door handle, Falcone opened it from the outside.
He offered me his hand.
I looked down at his gloved fingers, hesitating.
“I won't break you, Delaney,” he murmured, reading my hesitation with terrifying accuracy. “You've survived hell tonight. Let me handle the demons.”
I placed my trembling hand in his.
His grip was firm, warm, and unshakable.
He led me up the stone steps, through the heavy oak doors, and into a grand foyer lit by a massive crystal chandelier.
An elderly housekeeper rushed forward, her eyes widening in shock at my disheveled appearance.
“Mrs. Higgins,” Falcone commanded calmly. “Prepare the east guest suite. Draw a hot bath, and bring dry clothes suitable for a young woman of twenty-seven.”
“Right away, Mr. Falcone,” the housekeeper said, casting a sympathetic glance in my direction.
Falcone turned back to me.
“Rest tonight,” he instructed. “Tomorrow, we visit your stepfamily in Federal Hill. You are going to watch me take everything they own.”
My breath caught.
“You don't have to do that for me,” I whispered.
Falcone stepped closer, towering over me, his gray eyes burning with an intense, quiet fury.
“I don't do anything because I have to, Delaney,” he whispered darkly. “I do it because I choose to. Sleep.”
May you like
He turned on his heel and strode down the grand hallway into his private study, leaving me standing alone in the warm, silent foyer as the grandfather clock chimed midnight.
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