Chapter 9 - The Last Ghost at the DoorPeace lasted eleven months.
Then Carlo returned.
Not physically.
Carlo remained in federal prison.
But old organizations rarely died cleanly.
A man named Victor Salerno began rebuilding pieces of Carlo’s network.
Roman refused involvement.
Victor did not accept refusal.
The first message arrived beneath Elena’s stroller.
A photograph.
Jo leaving the clinic.
Roman stared at it for a long time.
Then burned it.
Jo watched.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
She blinked.
“Nothing?”
“I’m going to call my federal contact.”
Jo smiled slightly.
“What?”
“You’ve changed.”
Roman looked toward Elena sleeping in her crib.
“Yes.”
The FBI handled the threats.
Roman cooperated.
Victor escalated.
One evening Jo returned home and found the apartment door open.
Her blood froze.
“Elena?”
She ran inside.
Roman stood in the living room holding their daughter.
Safe.
Three federal agents surrounded them.
Someone had attempted entry.
Failed.
Roman looked at Jo.
His face was terrifyingly calm.
“They want me to respond.”
“Will you?”
“No.”
Jo approached.
Roman handed Elena to her.
“I spent my entire life responding exactly how men like Victor expected.”
He touched his daughter’s tiny foot.
“I’m done.”
Victor Salerno was arrested six days later after Roman supplied evidence connecting him to extortion and attempted kidnapping.
No shootout.
No revenge.
No blood.
Just handcuffs.
That evening Roman stood on the balcony.
Jo joined him.
“You disappointed?”
“About what?”
“No dramatic warehouse confrontation.”
Roman smiled.
“I’m getting old.”
“You’re thirty-eight.”
“Ancient.”
Jo rested against him.
Below them, the city glowed.
“Do you miss it?”
“The power?”
“Yes.”
Roman considered.
“Sometimes.”
Jo appreciated the honesty.
“What do you miss?”
“Knowing everyone was afraid of me.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“It wasn’t.”
He wrapped an arm around her.
“Fear is simple. Love is terrifying.”
Jo looked at him.
“Because you can lose it?”
“Because you can hurt it.”
He kissed her temple.
“And because it requires me to become someone better every day.”
Jo smiled.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Inside, Elena started crying.
Roman sighed.
“Your daughter.”
“Our daughter.”
“She has your temper.”
“She has your lungs.”
Roman went inside.
Jo watched him lift Elena from the crib.
The baby immediately stopped crying.
Roman looked unbearably pleased with himself.
Jo laughed.
This was the man Carlo had called weak.
Maybe Carlo had been right.
Love had made Roman weak.
It had weakened every part of him built from cruelty.
Every instinct toward violence.
May you like
Every belief that control was the same as safety.
And in destroying those things, love had made him stronger than fear ever had.
