Chapter 10
Roman knew something had gone wrong before Hayes stopped answering.
Instinct.
The same instinct that had kept him alive through twenty years of betrayal.
He fired twice toward the northern window.
One attacker fell.
Victor Salvi was already down behind a pew, bleeding from the leg.
“Who are they?”
Roman shouted.
Victor shook his head.
“Not mine.”
Roman’s radio crackled.
Nothing.
“Hayes.”
Silence.
“Morgana.”
Nothing.
The church ceased to matter.
Roman moved.
He reached the side exit.
Two shooters appeared.
Roman fired.
One dropped.
The other retreated.
Roman did not pursue.
He ran into the rain.
A backup vehicle reached him three minutes later.
Miller drove.
Roman opened the passenger door before it stopped.
“Where is Hayes?”
“Lost contact.”
“Find him.”
“We’re tracking the sedan.”
“Then drive.”
They found the wreck eleven minutes later.
Roman saw the vehicle.
Saw the destroyed rear door.
Saw Hayes on the pavement.
Something inside him became very quiet.
He got out.
“Morgana!”
No answer.
Roman reached Hayes.
Blood covered the side of Hayes’s face.
Roman pressed fingers against his neck.
Pulse.
“Hayes.”
The larger man groaned.
His eyes opened.
“Boss.”
“Where is she?”
Hayes tried to sit.
Roman held him down.
“Where?”
“They took her.”
The words destroyed the last remaining boundary inside Roman.
“Who?”
“Black SUV.”
Hayes coughed.
“Four men.”
“Direction?”
“South.”
Miller was already calling units.
Roman stood.
Hayes grabbed his sleeve.
“Roman.”
He looked down.
“They knew.”
“What?”
“They knew she’d be with me.”
Roman stopped.
The trap became clear.
The meeting.
The attack.
The demand that Roman come alone.
None of it had been designed to kill him.
It had been designed to separate him from Morgana.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Roman answered.
“Where is she?”
A familiar voice responded.
“Still impatient.”
Roman went cold.
Thomas Vescari.
Miller saw his face.
Understood.
Roman spoke slowly.
“If you touch her—”
“Please.”
Thomas sounded almost amused.
“I have known you since you were a child.”
“Then you know exactly what I will do.”
“Yes.”
Thomas paused.
“That’s why I took her.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Not from weakness.
To control the rage.
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
Roman said nothing.
“Elena’s ledger.”
Thomas continued.
“And the drive Victor gave you.”
“Where is Morgana?”
“Safe.”
“I want proof.”
A pause.
Then another voice.
“Morgana?”
Roman’s heart stopped.
“Roman.”
Her voice was distant.
But alive.
“Morgana.”
“I’m okay.”
Someone pulled the phone away.
Thomas returned.
“Tomorrow. Noon.”
“Location?”
“I’ll send it.”
“If she has one bruise—”
“Roman.”
Thomas sighed.
“You are making the same mistake Salvatore made.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“What mistake?”
“Believing love gives you strength.”
Thomas ended the call.
Roman stood in the rain.
Miller waited.
“What did he say?”
Roman looked toward the destroyed sedan.
For years, Roman believed fear came from weakness.
He had been wrong.
Fear came when a man finally possessed something more important than himself.
“Get Hayes to a doctor.”
Roman walked toward the backup vehicle.
“And call everyone.”
Miller followed.
“Everyone?”
“Every captain.”
Roman’s face had become unreadable.
“Every union contact.”
He entered the vehicle.
“Every politician who owes me a favor.”
Miller hesitated.
“That could start a war.”
Roman looked at him.
“It already started.”
Morgana woke in a bedroom.
Not a basement.
Not a warehouse.
A bedroom.
That surprised her.
Her wrists were free.
Her head hurt badly.
She sat slowly.
The room was elegant.
Old-fashioned.
Heavy curtains.
Antique furniture.
A fireplace.
The door opened.
Thomas Vescari entered carrying a tray.
He was perhaps seventy.
Silver hair.
Tailored navy suit.
He looked like someone’s wealthy grandfather.
Morgana hated him immediately.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Food?”
“No.”
Thomas put the tray down.
“You’re less frightened than I expected.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Yes.”
He sat.
“Jason.”
Morgana’s expression changed.
Thomas smiled.
“I know everything about you.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You know facts.”
Thomas’s smile weakened slightly.
“Roman likes you.”
“Apparently enough for you to kidnap me.”
“I needed his attention.”
“You could have called.”
“He doesn’t listen.”
“He answered you pretty quickly.”
Thomas laughed softly.
Morgana studied him.
“Did you kill Elena?”
The smile disappeared.
Direct hit.
Thomas leaned back.
“Roman told you.”
“The ledger told him.”
Thomas’s eyes sharpened.
“So he found it.”
Morgana realized she had confirmed something.
Careless.
Thomas saw her realize it.
“Good.”
He smiled.
“You learn quickly.”
“What does CLEANUP mean?”
Thomas looked toward the fireplace.
“It means Salvatore paid me to solve a problem.”
“Elena?”
“Yes.”
Morgana felt cold.
“You killed her.”
“No.”
Thomas looked back.
“I tried to save her.”
Morgana did not believe him.
Thomas continued.
“Salvatore discovered she was cooperating with federal investigators.”
“He paid you.”
“To retrieve the evidence.”
“Then what happened?”
Thomas’s expression became distant.
“I followed them.”
Morgana listened.
“Salvatore forced her car off the road.”
Thomas spoke quietly.
“I arrived after impact.”
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
Roman had been lied to.
Morgana’s chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“I pulled her from the car.”
Thomas looked at his hands.
“She gave me the ledger.”
Morgana frowned.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She knew Salvatore would search the wreck.”
“Why give it to you?”
“Because she thought I hated him.”
“Did you?”
Thomas smiled without humor.
“Everyone eventually hated Salvatore.”
“Then why hide the truth?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Because Elena asked me to protect Roman.”
Morgana stared.
“By letting him believe his mother died in an accident?”
“By keeping him out of prison.”
Thomas stood.
“Those files implicated Roman.”
“He was seventeen.”
“Some accounts were already in his name.”
Thomas walked toward the window.
“Salvatore designed it that way. If the empire fell, his son would fall with it.”
Morgana remembered the tape.
You are not responsible for what your parents became.
Elena had known.
“What happened to her?”
Thomas remained facing the curtains.
“She died before the ambulance arrived.”
“And Daniel?”
“He saw too much.”
“You killed him?”
Thomas turned.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“That is the question you should be asking Roman.”
Morgana frowned.
Thomas approached.
“Daniel Mercer contacted Roman three months ago.”
“No.”
“He did.”
Thomas watched her.
“Three calls.”
Morgana shook her head.
“Roman would have told me.”
“Would he?”
Thomas smiled.
“You’ve known him five months.”
“I know him.”
“You know the man he wants you to see.”
Morgana stood.
Thomas continued.
“Roman knew Daniel was alive.”
“No.”
“He knew someone was using Mercer’s accounts.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“He sent men looking.”
Thomas’s voice became quieter.
“Two days later, Daniel died.”
Morgana searched his face.
“You’re lying.”
“Perhaps.”
Thomas walked toward the door.
“That’s the problem with loving men like us.”
He looked back.
“You eventually discover that truth and loyalty rarely occupy the same room.”
The door closed.
Morgana sat alone.
She refused to believe him.
But doubt did not require belief.
It only required space.
Thomas had created it.
Back at the estate, Roman opened a hidden drawer inside his desk.
Miller stood across from him.
Roman removed a burner phone.
Miller saw it.
His expression changed.
“You kept that?”
Roman looked at the screen.
Three missed calls.
All from six weeks earlier.
Daniel Mercer.
“Yes.”
Miller stared.
“Why didn’t you tell Hayes?”
“Because I didn’t know who to trust.”
“Did you call Mercer back?”
“No.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“I thought it was a trap.”
Miller looked toward him.
“And now?”
Roman stared at Daniel’s number.
“Now he’s dead.”
Guilt was not useful.
Roman knew that.
But guilt arrived anyway.
His phone vibrated.
A photograph.
Morgana sitting in the antique bedroom.
Alive.
Below it:
NOON. COME WITH THE LEDGER AND DRIVE.
A second message followed.
COME WITH AN ARMY AND SHE DIES.
Miller read over Roman’s shoulder.
“What are you going to do?”
Roman looked at the photograph.
Five months earlier, Morgana had entered his life because a coward traded her for survival.
Roman had promised himself she would never again become currency between powerful men.
Now Thomas Vescari had turned her into exactly that.
Roman closed his hand around the phone.
“I’m going alone.”
Miller stared.
“That’s suicide.”
“Probably.”
“Roman.”
Roman opened the safe.
He removed Elena’s ledger.
Then Victor’s drive.
Miller stepped forward.
“There has to be another way.”
“There is.”
Roman looked at him.
“But every other way gambles with her life.”
“You can’t give Vescari everything.”
“I can rebuild money.”
Roman placed the drive in his pocket.
“I can rebuild routes.”
He picked up the ledger.
“I can rebuild an empire.”
His voice became quiet.
“I cannot rebuild Morgana.”
At 11:58 the following morning, Roman’s car stopped outside an abandoned riverside mansion thirty miles north of the city.
He came alone.
No weapon.
No visible backup.
The ledger rested on the passenger seat.
Roman stepped out.
The front doors opened.
Thomas Vescari appeared.
Two armed men stood behind him.
Roman looked past them.
“Where is she?”
Thomas smiled.
“You really are Elena’s son.”
“Where is Morgana?”
“Inside.”
Roman held up the ledger.
“You get this when I see her.”
Thomas nodded.
The guards searched Roman.
No weapon.
No wire.
They led him inside.
Morgana heard footsteps.
Her door opened.
Thomas entered.
Behind him stood Roman.
For one second, neither Roman nor Morgana spoke.
Roman looked at her face.
Hands.
Clothes.
Searching for injury.
Morgana stood.
“I’m fine.”
Roman exhaled.
Thomas watched them.
Almost sadly.
“Remarkable.”
Roman’s eyes never left Morgana.
“What?”
Thomas answered.
“Your father would have sacrificed a hundred people before walking unarmed into this house.”
Roman finally looked at him.
“That’s why he died alone.”
Thomas’s expression hardened.
Roman held up the ledger.
“Let her go.”
“The drive.”
Roman removed it.
Thomas nodded toward a guard.
“Take them.”
“No.”
Roman’s hand closed.
“She walks first.”
Thomas smiled.
“You’re negotiating from a weak position.”
Roman looked at him.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
“I’m negotiating from the position of a man who already decided what he’s willing to lose.”
Thomas studied him.
Then nodded.
A guard opened the front door.
Morgana looked at Roman.
He gave the smallest movement of his head.
Go.
She did not move.
Roman’s expression changed.
“Morgana.”
“No.”
Thomas laughed.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“This is not the time.”
“You came alone?”
“Yes.”
“You idiot.”
“Morgana.”
“You actually came alone?”
“Yes.”
She looked toward Thomas.
Then back.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Roman almost lost control.
“That is literally the entire purpose of me being here.”
“And I told you before.”
Morgana walked toward him.
“I don’t abandon people when the bill comes due.”
Thomas’s amusement vanished.
Perhaps because he finally understood the problem.
Roman and Morgana were not powerful because one protected the other.
They were dangerous because neither knew how to abandon the other.
A gunshot sounded outside.
Thomas turned.
Another.
Then another.
Roman smiled.
Thomas looked at him.
“You said you came alone.”
“I did.”
Roman’s smile became cold.
“But Morgana didn’t.”
Thomas frowned.
Morgana reached into the pocket of her sweater.
She removed the small phone Thomas’s men had failed to find because she had hidden it inside the lining after stealing it from a guard six hours earlier.
A single call had remained connected.
Hayes.
Roman looked at her.
For the first time since entering the house, surprise crossed his face.
Morgana smiled.
“I told you I wanted to be involved.”
The windows shattered.
Hayes’s voice thundered from outside.
“COSTA SECURITY! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”
Thomas stared at Morgana.
“You called them.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“While you were explaining how clever you were.”
Roman almost laughed.
Thomas reached for his gun.
Morgana moved first.
She grabbed the heavy silver tray from the table and swung it into his wrist.
The gun fell.
Roman struck Thomas before it reached the floor.
One punch.
Thomas collapsed against the desk.
Roman grabbed the weapon.
Guards entered.
Hayes and Miller came through the opposite door.
Seconds later, it was over.
Thomas lay on the floor.
Blood touched his mouth.
Roman stood above him.
Gun pointed downward.
Thomas smiled weakly.
“There he is.”
Roman said nothing.
“Salvatore’s son.”
Roman’s finger rested against the trigger.
Morgana saw it.
Saw the past trying to decide the future.
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
Thomas whispered, “Do it.”
Roman looked down.
Then lowered the weapon.
“No.”
Thomas’s smile disappeared.
Roman handed the gun to Hayes.
“My father spent his whole life teaching me that power meant deciding who dies.”
Roman looked at Morgana.
“He was wrong.”
He turned back to Thomas.
“Power is deciding who gets to live with the consequences.”
Roman walked away.
Morgana followed.
Outside, morning light reflected across the river.
Roman stopped beside the car.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Roman turned toward her.
“You stole a phone.”
“Yes.”
“You hid it in your clothing.”
“Yes.”
“You called Hayes.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed inside after I explicitly created an exit for you.”
“Yes.”
Roman stared.
Morgana waited.
“You are going to shorten my life.”
She smiled.
“You smoke.”
“I stopped.”
“When?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
Roman stepped closer.
“You complained about the smell.”
Morgana blinked.
“You quit smoking because I complained?”
“I also dislike cancer.”
“Reasonable.”
Roman touched her face.
His expression became serious.
“I thought I lost you.”
Morgana’s smile disappeared.
“I know.”
“I can’t do that again.”
“You can’t prevent everything.”
“I can try.”
“No.”
She placed her hand against his chest.
“You can trust me.”
Roman looked down at her fingers.
Then at her.
“That is significantly more difficult.”
“I know.”
He exhaled.
“But I’ll try.”
Morgana nodded.
“That’s enough.”
Roman kissed her forehead.
Behind them, Hayes supervised Thomas’s removal.
The old empire was collapsing.
Secrets that had survived decades were finally entering daylight.
Roman knew there would be consequences.
Political.
Financial.
Criminal.
The ledger contained enough information to destabilize half the power structure his father had built.
For the first time in his adult life, Roman did not know what his organization would look like six months from now.
Strangely, that uncertainty did not frighten him as much as it once would have.
He looked at Morgana.
Five months earlier, she had arrived at his house carrying everything she owned in a duffel bag.
She had believed she was being delivered to a monster.
Roman had believed he was accepting collateral.
They had both been wrong.
“What happens now?” Morgana asked.
Roman considered.
“We go home.”
“And after that?”
“I have several hundred million dollars in questionable assets to restructure.”
“That sounds boring.”
“It’s extremely boring.”
“Good.”
Roman raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
Morgana slipped her hand into his.
“I’ve had enough excitement.”
Roman opened the passenger door.
She started to enter.
Then stopped.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I’m still getting a job.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Morgana smiled.
“And my own bank account.”
“I remember.”
“And no secretly depositing money.”
“Morgana.”
“I mean it.”
Roman looked toward the sky as though requesting patience from a God he rarely acknowledged.
“Fine.”
She entered the car.
Roman closed the door.
Then walked around to the driver’s side.
For once, there was no armored convoy.
No chauffeur.
No contract.
No debt.
Only Roman.
Morgana.
And a road leading back toward a house that had once been a cage.
It would never be one again.
Because Morgana now knew something she had never learned from Jason.
A locked door could protect you.
An open door could free you.
But home was neither.
May you like
Home was the place where the door could remain open—
and you still chose to stay.
