Chapter 3 - The Secret He’s Hiding
Outside, the heavy boots stepped away from the pantry door, moving toward the front counter where Ali was presumably being held.
“Search the rest of the alley and the dumpsters,” the cultured voice ordered. “He couldn’t have gotten far with two infants and a bullet lodged in his thoracic cavity. If he bled out in the rain, find the body. The boss wants confirmation before the markets open.”
“And the old man?” a thug asked.
“Tie him up in the walk-in freezer. Let’s see how long he lasts before someone opens it for breakfast.”
Footsteps retreated toward the front exit, the door chiming softly as it swung shut.
I waited three full minutes, listening to the absolute silence of the kitchen, before I dared to turn the brass handle of the pantry door. It creaked softly. I slipped out into the dim light of the diner kitchen.
Ali was slumped against the stainless-steel prep table, his hands bound behind him with plastic zip-ties, a gag wrapped tightly around his mouth.
I sprinted over, sawing frantically at the heavy plastic ties with my small paring knife until they snapped, freeing his wrists.
Ali gasped, ripping the gag away and coughing violently. “Anna... oh, thank God. Those men... they were looking for a monster. They had guns, Anna.”
“I know, Ali, I know,” I whispered, helping him to his feet. “Are you hurt?”
“Just bruised pride,” he wheezed, rubbing his wrists. “Who were those men? What is going on in my diner?”
Before I could answer, a low, guttural groan echoed from the open door of the pantry.
Ali froze, his eyes widening in horror as he peered into the dark storage room. “Is that... is that the man bleeding on my flour?”
“We need to get him out of here, Ali,” I said, my voice steadying with a sudden, fierce resolve. “If those men realize he’s still inside, they’ll level this place to the ground.”
We rushed back into the pantry. Daniel was stirring, his heavy eyelids fluttering open to reveal those striking, icy blue eyes. He coughed, a spray of crimson hitting his white dress shirt, and instinctively reached toward his chest where the twins were safely tucked inside the makeshift nest I had built.
“The... the kids?” he rasped, his voice like gravel grinding together.
“They’re safe,” I said, kneeling beside him. “And Ali is free. But the men who were looking for you... they checked the alley. They know you’re bleeding out. Who are they, Daniel? And don't give me that garbage about regular police. Cops don't tie up old men in diners and hunt people like animals.”
May you like
Daniel stared at me, his chest heaving with every agonizing breath. He reached into his blood-soaked jacket pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a heavy, platinum signet ring bearing a crest I didn't recognize—a roaring lion entwined with ivy.
“They aren't cops,” Daniel whispered, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “They work for the Sterling Syndicate. And the man who ordered my execution... is my own brother.”
