Chapter 7 - The Price of the Ledger
The small amber indicator light on the closet control panel cast a dim, ghostly glow across my face. Through the hidden one-way grille in the woodwork, I could see the entire master bedroom.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but every instinct told me not to move, not to make a sound.
Outside in the nursery, Dante lowered his gun, walked deliberately across the floor, and spun the heavy brass handle of the main bedroom door. It swung wide open. The three figures in tactical black stepped over the splintered threshold, their weapons raised, moving with cold, synchronized precision.
The leader—a tall man with a jagged scar visible beneath the edge of his balaclava—lowered his rifle slightly as he locked eyes with Dante.
“You’re making a smart choice, Russo,” the leader said, his voice raspy and devoid of warmth. “Where is she?”
Dante stood tall, his hands empty at his sides, his posture radiating a dangerous, controlled fury. “She’s gone. You missed her by an hour. She figured out who you were looking for and caught a cab back across the bridge to Brooklyn.”
The leader let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “You take us for fools? We tracked her phone to this zip code. We know she’s in this house.”
“Tracked an old burner phone I left in her coat,” Dante countered smoothly, not flinching an inch. “You want the ledger? You want the assets Clara uncovered? They aren't with the girl. They’re in my downtown vault, locked behind biometric security that only my heartbeat can open. Take me.”
I bit down hard on my lower lip to keep from screaming out. Dante was lying to protect me. He was offering himself up as a hostage to drive them away from the nursery, away from Sophia, and away from me.
The leader stepped closer, his rifle barrel hovering inches from Dante’s chest. For a long, agonizing moment, the two men stared each other down in total silence. The tension in the room was so thick it felt physical.
“No,” the leader said quietly. “We don't need you downtown, Dante. We have someone much closer who can open any vault you own.”
Before Dante could react, the leader signaled to the two men behind him. They didn't move toward the closet where I hid; instead, they turned sharply toward the canopy bed where Sophia lay.
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Dante moved with terrifying speed, lunging toward the leader, but the tactical operatives intercepted him with brutal efficiency, slamming him against the mahogany desk with a sickening crash that shattered the porcelain lamp.
From my hidden vantage point, I watched in absolute horror as one of the men reached out and gently pulled back the silk blanket from the sleeping child.
