Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT THE LIGHTS WENT OUT|
The safe apartment lost power at 11:41 p.m.
Samantha woke to the silence of the refrigerator stopping and the unfamiliar darkness swallowing the hallway. She listened carefully.
No traffic horns.
No television from the neighboring apartment.
Then came a soft metallic sound at the front door.
She slipped out of bed and checked Tyler's room. He was awake, sitting upright with his hands pressed over his ears.
“Mommy?”
“I'm here.”
She pulled him into her arms and reached for her phone.
No signal.
A second click sounded at the lock.
Samantha took Tyler into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned the small brass latch. It would not stop a determined intruder, but it would give them a few seconds.
She held Tyler close.
“Remember our plan, sweetheart? Quiet room. Mommy stays with you. We take three slow breaths.”
He tried.
The first breath shook.
The second became a hum.
The third finally reached his lungs.
A heavy impact struck the apartment door.
Samantha covered Tyler's ears.
Another impact.
Then a voice from the hallway.
“Ms. Cooper? We need you to open the door.”
She recognized it.
The building manager.
But behind him, she heard another man's voice whisper, “Move. We don't have all night.”
Samantha looked around the bathroom. One small window opened toward a narrow service ledge. She could not carry Tyler down it safely, and the next room was too far away.
Her phone vibrated once.
A text from Franco appeared despite the weak signal.
Stay inside. My men are two minutes away. Do not open the door.
She typed back.
They're already inside the building.
The door slammed again.
The lock splintered.
Tyler began humming louder, the melody trembling through the bathroom.
Samantha sang with him.
The door burst open.
A man entered the bedroom, sweeping a flashlight across the walls. Another followed, carrying a small camera.
“Check the bathroom.”
Samantha tightened her arms around Tyler.
Before they reached the door, gunfire cracked from the corridor.
The intruders turned.
Samantha heard a struggle, a shout, and the crash of something heavy striking the floor. Then Franco's voice cut through the darkness.
“Get away from that door!”
She unlocked it.
Franco stood in the hallway with his gun lowered, his shirt torn at the shoulder. Two security officers restrained a man near the stairs. Another had disappeared through an emergency exit.
Franco looked at Samantha and Tyler.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
His gaze moved to the boy.
“Tyler?”
The child stared at him, breathing rapidly.
Franco holstered his weapon and knelt.
“It's all right. The noise is over.”
Tyler reached for him.
Franco gathered the boy carefully, holding him against his chest while Samantha watched the fear leave his small face by degrees.
When Tyler finally relaxed, Franco pressed his forehead briefly against the child's hair.
Samantha had never seen a man look so relieved to have someone alive in his arms.
The police arrived twenty minutes later. The two intruders were identified as contractors linked to one of Wells's security companies. Both refused to explain why they had entered the apartment.
But one had dropped a phone.
The device contained a message from a contact named B.W.
No injuries unless necessary. The boy must remain alive.
Samantha read it with shaking hands.
“Why does he need Tyler alive?”
Franco took the phone from her.
“Because Tyler is more valuable to him breathing.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No. It isn't.”
He looked at Luca.
“Move them to the country house. No more temporary apartments. Triple the perimeter security and run every employee through an independent background check.”
Samantha stepped forward.
“I am not going to hide in a mansion while you fight a war.”
“Tonight wasn't a fight. It was an attempted abduction.”
“And the next one?”
Franco's eyes darkened.
“The next one won't get close enough to reach the door.”
She studied him.
“You can't promise that.”
He had no response.
Later, after Tyler fell asleep in the country house, Samantha found Franco alone in the kitchen, washing blood from his knuckles.
She took a clean towel from the cupboard.
“Sit down.”
He obeyed.
As she wrapped his hand, she asked, “How many people have you hurt to build the life you have?”
Franco did not look away.
“Too many.”
“And how many are still coming after you?”
“Enough.”
Samantha finished the bandage.
“Then you'd better decide what kind of life you want your son to inherit.”
Outside, the guards found a small package attached to the estate's outer gate.
Inside was a photograph of Franco's younger brother, taken on the day he died.
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On the back, someone had written:
Your brother wasn't killed by Wells. Ask Luca who gave the order.
