Chapter 7 - The Man Who Refused to Stay DeadMia watched the security footage seventeen times.
Every time, she hoped she was wrong.
Every time, she became more certain.
The man entered the Grand Central Telephone Exchange at 2:14 a.m. three nights earlier. He wore a maintenance uniform and baseball cap. His hair was mostly gray now. His face thinner.
But when he looked toward the camera, Mia saw Marcus Katherine.
Her father.
Alive.
She stopped the video.
“Play it again.”
“Mia,” Matteo said.
“Again.”
He obeyed.
Marcus appeared.
Walked past the camera.
Disappeared.
Mia felt sick.
Seven years.
Seven years of grief.
Seven years of debt.
Seven years believing her father had stolen millions and killed himself rather than face the consequences.
He had been alive.
Somewhere.
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
Nobody answered.
Mia turned to Enzo.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Guess.”
“That won’t help.”
“Tell me what you think.”
Enzo hesitated.
“Maybe he believed contact would put you in danger.”
“For seven years?”
“Yes.”
“He let me pay his debts.”
“He might not have known.”
“I was working eighty-hour hospital weeks and another thirty hours at that clinic. I nearly lost my apartment three times.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Mia stood abruptly.
“You don’t know what it was like waking up every morning terrified that someone would break my fingers because my father owed money.”
Enzo’s face hardened with guilt.
Because some of those men had belonged to him.
Mia realized it at the same moment.
“You knew.”
“Mia—”
“You knew people were collecting from me.”
“I knew payments were being made.”
“And you allowed it.”
“The debt was attached to Marcus.”
“He was alive.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“But I wasn’t him.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Enzo did not defend himself.
That made her angrier.
“Answer me.”
“Because that is how the organization worked.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Worked?”
“Works.”
“There it is.”
Mia moved toward the door.
Enzo stepped in front.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
“You can’t leave the building.”
“Watch me.”
“Mia.”
“Move.”
“No.”
She slapped his chest.
Not hard.
Just furious.
“You don’t get to lock me in another room because you’re afraid.”
“And you don’t get to walk outside while Volkov’s people are hunting you.”
“You’re no different from them.”
The words landed.
Enzo became very still.
Mia immediately knew she had gone too far.
But she was too angry to apologize.
Enzo stepped aside.
“Fine.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Go to the roof.”
“That’s not leaving.”
“It’s the only place you’re going alone.”
“Still controlling.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“Yes.”
She walked away.
The rooftop was cold.
Wind swept between skyscrapers.
Mia stood behind the safety barrier staring at the waking city.
Ten minutes later, the door opened.
She expected Enzo.
It was Matteo.
“Can I join you?”
“No.”
He joined anyway.
Mia sighed.
“You’re all terrible with boundaries.”
“It’s organizational culture.”
Despite herself, she smiled faintly.
Matteo leaned against the wall.
“Enzo didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t excuse the collection.”
“I know.”
“He regrets it.”
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“He hasn’t broken anything.”
Mia looked at him.
Matteo remained serious.
“That’s progress.”
She shook her head.
“Why are you defending him?”
“Because someone should explain the man you’re actually angry with.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
Mia looked at the skyline.
“He abandoned me.”
“Maybe.”
“For seven years.”
“Probably.”
“That’s cruel.”
“Yes.”
She turned.
“You’re not going to make excuses?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because love does not erase damage.”
The sentence surprised her.
Matteo looked toward the city.
“My father was Moretti too.”
Mia frowned.
“You’re related?”
“Distantly. Cousin through Enzo’s mother.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Few people do.”
“What happened to your father?”
“Enzo killed him.”
Mia froze.
Matteo said it calmly.
“What?”
“My father betrayed Enzo’s father when we were twenty.”
“And you’re Enzo’s closest friend?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My father also tried to kill me.”
Mia said nothing.
Matteo smiled without humor.
“Families are complicated.”
“That may be the understatement of the century.”
“He saved my life that night. I chose him afterward.”
“Even though he killed your father?”
“Blood does not mean loyalty.”
Carlo’s warning returned.
Family.
The mole was family.
Maybe the lesson applied in both directions.
Mia hugged herself against the wind.
“What happens now?”
“We retrieve the vault.”
“And my father?”
“We find him.”
“Alive.”
Matteo looked at her.
“If possible.”
Mia hardened.
“Alive.”
He nodded once.
“Alive.”
They entered the Grand Central Telephone Exchange at noon.
The building’s public floors had been converted into office space, but the original basement remained largely untouched.
Matteo had arranged access through a property manager who believed Moretti Capital was considering a purchase.
Enzo wore a suit.
That irritated Mia.
He looked too healthy.
Too powerful.
As if nothing hurt.
She knew better.
He did not attempt to talk to her.
That irritated her too.
They reached Vault 314.
The brass key fit.
Inside was empty.
Mia stared.
“No.”
Enzo examined the shelves.
Dust marks revealed something had once been there.
A rectangular object approximately twelve inches long.
“The ledger,” Matteo said.
“Marcus took it,” Mia whispered.
“Three nights ago,” Enzo said.
“Why now?”
Nobody knew.
Luca called from the hallway.
“Boss.”
They joined him.
He had found blood.
A small dried smear near an emergency exit.
Matteo crouched.
“Three days old.”
Mia’s medical instincts activated.
“Not much.”
“Could be Marcus.”
“Could be anyone.”
Enzo opened the emergency door.
It led to an alley.
A traffic camera stood across the street.
Thirty minutes later, Matteo had obtained footage.
Marcus exited at 2:31 a.m.
He was running.
A black sedan followed.
Someone fired.
Marcus stumbled.
Then continued.
The footage ended.
Mia covered her mouth.
“He was being hunted.”
“Yes,” Enzo said.
“By Volkov?”
“Maybe.”
She looked at him.
“Or your mole.”
“Yes.”
Another camera showed Marcus entering a taxi.
Matteo traced the plate.
The driver had dropped him in Pilsen.
At an apartment belonging to—
“Samuel Price,” Mia said.
The building was old.
Brick.
Three floors.
Enzo wanted Mia to remain in the car.
She refused.
This time, he did not argue long.
They climbed to apartment 3C.
The door was unlocked.
Enzo entered first.
Gun drawn.
Mia followed.
The smell of blood reached her immediately.
“Someone’s hurt.”
They found Samuel Price in the kitchen.
He was alive.
Barely.
He sat against a cabinet, blood soaking his shirt from a gunshot wound to the abdomen.
Mia ran to him.
“Medical kit!”
Luca handed it over.
Samuel opened his eyes.
“Mia?”
Her hands stopped.
He recognized her.
“Uncle Sam.”
He smiled weakly.
“You look like your mother.”
Tears blurred her vision.
“Where is my father?”
Samuel coughed.
“Gone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Safe. Maybe.”
“Where?”
Samuel grabbed her wrist.
“Listen.”
“I need to stop the bleeding.”
“There’s no time.”
“There is if you stop talking.”
A faint smile.
“Still bossy.”
“Samuel.”
He looked at Enzo.
“You’re Lorenzo.”
“Yes.”
“Marcus was right about you.”
“What did he say?”
“That you’d become your father unless someone forced you not to.”
Enzo’s face darkened.
Mia pressed gauze into Samuel’s wound.
“Who shot you?”
“The mole.”
“Name.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Listening.”
Everyone looked around.
Matteo immediately began scanning for devices.
He found one beneath the kitchen table.
A transmitter.
Active.
Enzo crushed it beneath his shoe.
Samuel relaxed slightly.
“Dante.”
Enzo stepped closer.
“What about him?”
“They didn’t take him because of the key.”
“Then why?”
“Because he knows.”
Enzo’s expression changed.
“Knows what?”
Samuel’s breathing became shallow.
Mia checked his pulse.
Weak.
“Samuel, stay with me.”
“The Moretti mole.”
“Who?”
Samuel looked directly at Enzo.
“Dante knows who it is.”
Then he lost consciousness.
Mia worked.
Pressure.
IV.
Medication.
She stabilized him enough for transport.
As Moretti’s private medical team carried Samuel downstairs, Enzo stood motionless in the apartment.
Mia approached.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the first time she had heard him admit it.
“If Dante knows, Volkov will make him talk.”
“I know.”
“You need to move the exchange earlier.”
Enzo looked at her.
“You think I should give them the key.”
“The vault is empty.”
“They may not know that.”
“Exactly.”
Enzo understood.
“We give them the key.”
“Get Dante.”
“And afterward?”
“Kill Volkov?”
Mia stared.
He shrugged slightly.
“I assumed that was where you were going.”
“I was going to say find my father.”
“That too.”
Mia almost smiled.
Almost.
Enzo reached for her hand.
Then stopped.
He remembered her anger.
The hesitation mattered.
Mia looked at his hand.
Then placed hers inside it.
“I haven’t forgiven you,” she said.
“I know.”
“The debt collection.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me before we ever met.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t change that.”
“No.”
She studied him.
“But you can change what happens next.”
Enzo closed his fingers around hers.
“Yes.”
His phone rang.
Volkov.
Enzo answered.
“Change of plans,” he said immediately. “Tonight.”
Volkov laughed.
“Impatient?”
“My brother for the key.”
“And Price?”
“Dead.”
Mia looked at Samuel being taken away.
The lie was effortless.
Volkov paused.
“Where?”
Enzo smiled.
“Somewhere public.”
“Coward.”
“Practical.”
They settled on an abandoned freight terminal south of the city instead.
Public enough to limit heavy weapons.
Isolated enough to negotiate.
At nine that evening, Enzo prepared.
Mia watched him load his pistol.
“You’re planning something.”
“Always.”
“What?”
“The key has a tracker.”
“Volkov will scan it.”
“He will.”
“So?”
“He’ll find it.”
Mia frowned.
Enzo smiled.
“The tracker is meant to be found.”
Matteo entered.
“Vehicles ready.”
Mia grabbed her coat.
Enzo looked at her.
“No.”
She laughed once.
“We are not doing this again.”
“This exchange is different.”
“How?”
“Volkov wants you.”
“Which is why I should be there.”
“No.”
“Enzo.”
“No.”
Mia stepped closer.
“If Dante is injured, you need a doctor.”
“I’ll bring one.”
“You already bought one.”
His expression hardened.
Mia continued.
“And if Samuel wakes while you’re gone, I need to question him.”
“That argues for staying.”
“Then I’ll come for the exchange and return.”
“Mia.”
She leaned closer.
“You told me real loyalty is earned or taken.”
Enzo went still.
“I’m choosing.”
That defeated him.
Ten minutes later, Mia climbed into the SUV.
As they drove south, Enzo sat beside her.
“You are going to be the death of me.”
Mia looked at him.
“I’ve saved you twice.”
“Three times if you count forcing me into the car in Evanston.”
“I do.”
“Then you have credit.”
“How much?”
“One death.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
Then Matteo’s voice came through the earpiece.
“Movement ahead.”
The freight terminal appeared.
Lights.
Vehicles.
Armed men.
And in the center, kneeling beneath a hanging industrial lamp—
Dante Moretti.
Alive.
Behind him stood Sergei Volkov.
And beside Volkov stood another man Mia recognized.
Carlo Moretti.
May you like
Enzo stopped breathing.
His uncle was holding a gun to Dante’s head.
