Chapter 2 - The Call in the DarkThe basement smelled of dust, concrete, and damp earth. I lay motionless on the freezing floor for a long time, listening to the shallow, agonizing rhythm of my own breathing. Every tiny expand of my lungs sent jagged shocks of pain shooting across my left side.
Three ribs, I thought through the haze of agony. At least three.
Above me, I could hear the faint, muffled sounds of footfalls walking across the kitchen floor, followed by the clinking of wineglasses. They were celebrating. They were opening the bottle of champagne I had bought to save my marriage.
My mother’s voice returned to me, echoing out of a distant memory from my childhood. “When a man shows you he is a predator, Emma, do not try to tame him. Run. Because if you stay, he will eat you alive.”
I had spent ten years trying to prove her wrong. I had strived to build a normal, quiet, respectable life in Westchester, far away from the dark shadows of the empire I had been born into. I had married a ambitious corporate executive, believing that his predictable world of boardrooms and golf clubs would keep me safe.
I rolled slowly onto my right side, holding my left ribcage tightly with one hand, sobbing silently against the cold concrete.
As I shifted, my elbow brushed against something thick inside my trench coat pocket.
My breath hitched.
My phone.
Brandon had dragged me by my collar, never bothering to check the pockets of my long wool coat.
With trembling, blood-stained fingers, I pulled the glowing device from my pocket. The screen flickered to life, casting a stark blue light across the damp stone walls of the basement. I pulled up my contacts.
I scrolled past my business associates. I scrolled past our joint attorney. I scrolled all the way down to a private, unlisted number that had sat untouched in my memory for twenty-five years. A number I had sworn I would never dial as long as I lived.
Vincent Moretti.
The man my mother had fled from when I was six years old. The man whose name made federal prosecutors tread lightly and corporate billionaires bow their heads in private dining rooms. The undisputed head of the Moretti Syndicate.
I hit the dial button.
The line rang once. Twice.
A heavy click sounded on the other end, followed by deep, gravelly silence.
"Who is this?" a voice answered—low, dangerous, and completely devoid of warmth.
"Dad..." I whispered, my voice breaking on a sob.
A long, suffocating silence stretched across the line. I heard the sharp, violent scraping of a heavy leather chair being pushed back against a marble floor.
"Emma?" The stone in his voice cracked slightly, replaced by an unsettling, razor-sharp intensity. "Is that you?"
"My husband..." I gasped, fresh tears spilling over my lashes as a spike of pain caught my breath. "He... he broke my ribs, Dad. He locked me in the basement."
There was no explosion of anger on the line. No shouting. Just an immediate, terrifying drop in the temperature of his tone.
"Where are you?" he asked, his voice deathly quiet.
"Our house... Westchester... 1422 Old Mill Road..."
"Is he still in the house?"
"Yes... he's upstairs with his mistress..."
"Listen to me, mia cara," Vincent said, his tone dropping into a smooth, rhythmic cadence that made my blood run cold. "Do not move. Do not speak to him again. I am turning my phone over to my captains right now. Send me your exact GPS pin."
"Dad... please don't—"
"Send it, Emma. Now."
I tapped the screen, sharing my live location via encrypted satellite link.
Through the receiver, I heard Vincent barking commands to someone standing nearby in his office. "Get the SUVs. Wake up Tony and the boys. Call the precinct commander in Westchester and tell him to hold all units five miles back. Nobody enters that street, and nobody leaves that house."
He came back to the phone. "Ten minutes, Emma. Hold on for your father."
The call disconnected.
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I pressed the phone against my chest, staring up at the dark ceiling. Upstairs, Brandon’s muffled laughter drifted down through the floorboards again. He thought he was dealing with a defenseless interior designer whose family had faded away into history.
He had no idea that the monster he had just summoned was already moving through the night.
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