Chapter 12 - The Night Nora Refused to Run|
Rocco doubled the security around the mansion and contacted the police. Vincent wanted Nora moved to a protected location immediately, but she refused to leave while Daniel was still recovering.
“My brother is in the hospital,” she said. “He can't simply pack a bag and disappear.”
“We can arrange a secure transfer.”
“He doesn't want to be moved again. He's terrified of waking up somewhere unfamiliar.”
Vincent knew what it felt like to have decisions made about his body without being consulted.
“All right,” he said. “Then we coordinate with the hospital. No one moves him without his agreement unless there's an immediate danger.”
Nora stared at him, surprised by the concession.
“Thank you.”
“Don't look so shocked.”
“I wasn't shocked. I was preparing to argue.”
“That makes two of us.”
For the next several hours, the house settled into a tense routine. Security officers monitored the driveway, investigators reviewed financial records, and Rocco checked every visitor's identity.
At nine, the front gate camera detected movement near the tree line.
A guard reported a figure walking toward the service entrance.
Vincent was in his office when the alarm sounded.
Nora was in the corridor.
Before anyone could stop her, she moved toward the side window to see what was happening.
“Get away from the glass!” Rocco shouted.
A sharp crack split the night.
The window shattered.
Nora dropped to the floor.
Vincent's heart slammed against his ribs.
“Nora!”
She was crouched beside a cabinet, both hands over her head. A security officer pulled her behind the interior wall while another called the police.
Vincent tried to wheel toward her, but his hands slipped against the rims.
The chair struck the edge of his desk.
For one terrible second, he could not move forward.
His body seemed to lock around the fear.
Then he forced himself to breathe, repositioned his hands, and turned the chair.
“Nora!”
“I'm here!” she shouted.
He reached the corridor as the security team secured the area. Nora was shaking, but there was no blood on her clothing. A fragment of glass had scratched her forearm.
Vincent stared at the small red line.
Something savage rose inside him.
“Find the shooter.”
Rocco's voice was firm.
“The police are already on their way. Don't leave the protected area.”
“I want him found.”
“And I want you alive.”
Vincent glared at him.
Rocco did not look away.
Nora wrapped a towel around her forearm.
“Don't do anything stupid because of me.”
Vincent's face tightened.
“Someone fired at my house.”
“Then let the people trained to handle it do their jobs.”
“What if the next shot hits you?”
“What if you charge outside and give them exactly what they want?”
He looked at her, furious because she was right.
The police arrived within minutes. They found a spent casing near the service entrance and tire tracks leading away from the property. No suspect was captured.
The attack was deliberate, but the shooter had avoided entering the house.
Detective Mitchell reviewed the scene and told Vincent that the evidence would be examined. She also advised him not to confront Marcus or send anyone after him.
“Your cooperation is helping,” she said. “Don't jeopardize it now.”
After the investigators left, Nora sat in the kitchen while a nurse cleaned her arm.
Vincent remained beside the table.
“You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
“That isn't funny.”
“I wasn't joking.”
He stared at the bandage.
“I should have sent you away.”
Nora's expression hardened.
“You don't get to decide that for me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Then ask what protection looks like to me.”
He fell silent.
Nora continued.
“I don't need you to become another person who makes choices on my behalf. I need you to tell me the truth, take threats seriously, and let me decide what risks I'm willing to accept.”
Vincent looked at her.
For most of his life, he had equated protection with control. If he could control the doors, the guards, the cars, and the people around someone, he believed he could keep them safe.
But the bullet had taught him that control could disappear in an instant.
Nora was teaching him something harder: safety required trust, and trust meant allowing another person to remain a person rather than an object to guard.
“I'll try,” he said.
“Good.”
She looked down at the bandage.
“Because I don't want to spend my life being afraid of every person who has power.”
Vincent understood that she wasn't only talking about Marcus.
She was talking about him, too.
The next morning, Marcus's attorney contacted Detective Mitchell. Marcus was willing to surrender—provided he received guarantees that his family would be protected and that he would not be transferred to a facility controlled by Vincent's organization.
Vincent read the message twice.
“He wants protection from me.”
Mitchell's reply was blunt.
“Whether you like it or not, he has a right to ask for protection from anyone he reasonably fears.”
Vincent looked toward Nora.
She was standing in the doorway, listening.
“Then give him protection,” Vincent said. “I want him alive to answer for what he did.”
For the first time, he had a chance to use his power without using fear.
He chose restraint.
But Marcus's surrender came with one condition.
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He wanted to speak to Vincent privately before giving his full statement.
And he claimed he had proof that Vincent's father had ordered the original shooting.
