Chapter 3 - Blood Under the Table
The corridor outside the study was plunged into emergency lighting.
Amber sconces flickered along the wainscoting, casting long, distorted shadows across the marble floor.
Sophie crept behind Ryan, keeping her footsteps silent against the runners.
Her heart felt like a trapped bird inside her chest.
Down at the far end of the hallway, near the arched entrance to the central courtyard, a figure was moving hastily toward the service exit.
It wasn't a tactical intruder dressed in black.
It was an older man stumbling against the wall, clutching a leather briefcase to his chest.
“Miller,” Ryan called out, his voice sharp as a blade.
The retired captain froze.
He slowly turned around, his face pale under the amber sconces.
His breathing was labored, and his ivory-handled cane dragged behind him like a dead limb.
“Ryan,” Miller wheezed, his eyes darting toward the shadows behind them.
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
“You should take the girl into the underground shelter.”
Ryan closed the distance between them in four long strides, keeping the Glock lowered at his side.
“Why are you running toward the garden exit, Captain?” Ryan asked.
“I gave explicit orders that nobody leaves this house.”
Miller swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing erratically.
“If I stay in this house another thirty minutes, I’m a dead man.”
“Who’s going to kill you?” Sophie asked, stepping out from behind Ryan.
Her fear was rapidly being consumed by a raw, burning fury.
“You knew my father was alive.”
“You sat in our living room after his fake funeral and ate the sandwiches my mother made for the precinct guests!”
“You looked me in the eye and told me he was a hero who died serving his community!”
Miller closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.
“I did what I had to do to keep you breathing, Sophie!”
“Do you think they would have let you live if they knew Daniel survived?”
“Who is ‘they’?” Ryan demanded, pressing the muzzle of his firearm gently against Miller’s lapel.
“Name them, Miller.”
“Before I let my security team take you down into the cellar.”
Miller let out a shuddering breath.
“Edward Vance,” Miller whispered.
The name fell like a lead weight in the cold hallway.
“The Police Commissioner?” Sophie asked, her eyes widening.
“He’s sitting at the head of the banquet table right now!”
“He was shaking hands with city senators ten minutes ago!”
“Vance was Daniel’s original handler when Unit Seven was formed twelve years ago,” Miller explained, his voice trembling.
“Vance took kickbacks from the Moretti syndicate from the very beginning.”
“He promised the Morettis that he would use Daniel to map out your father’s entire network, Ryan.”
“Once the map was complete, Vance planned to leak the raid coordinates to Moretti hitmen.”
“The DeMarco family would be exterminated, Vance would take credit for breaking the syndicate, and the Morettis would take over the city’s ports.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his skin.
“And Daniel figured it out.”
“Daniel wasn’t stupid,” Miller said.
“He realized his reports were being altered before they reached the federal magistrate.”
“He realized three of his street informants were found with their throats cut in industrial dumpsters.”
“So he stole the master evidence ledger.”
“The black book that contained every recorded wiretap, every off-shore account number, and every signed receipt connecting Vance to the Moretti cartel.”
Sophie remembered the leather dossier in Ryan’s study.
“Is that what was in the safe?”
“No,” Miller said, shaking his head.
“What was in that safe was just correspondence.”
“The actual ledger—the proof that can send Vance to death row—was hidden by Daniel before he staged his disappearance.”
“Where did he hide it?” Ryan asked.
Miller looked directly at Sophie.
“He didn’t tell me.”
“He told me that only two people in this world would ever know how to unlock the location.”
“One was your father, Vittorio DeMarco.”
“And the other was his own flesh and blood.”
Sophie’s breath caught in her throat.
“Me?”
“I was fourteen years old!”
“He never told me anything about ledgers or cartels!”
“He gave you something before he left, didn’t he?” Miller asked, his eyes desperate.
Sophie’s hand instinctively drifted toward her collarbone.
Beneath her black uniform blouse, resting against her sternum, hung a small silver pendant on a tarnished steel chain.
It was a vintage mechanic’s medallion depicting Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers.
Her father had hung it around her neck on her tenth birthday.
Keep this close to your skin, Soph, he had told her while wiping grease from his forehead.
No matter how dark the road gets, this will always guide you home.
She had never taken it off.
Not during her mother’s illness.
Not during her lowest days cleaning office buildings.
Before Sophie could speak, a sharp, metallic pop echoed from the direction of the banquet hall.
It was followed immediately by the shattering of crystal and the terrified screams of dozens of high-society guests.
Gunfire.
Suppressed, rhythmic, and professional.
A tall man in a tactical vest burst through the garden archway, his radio squawking with static.
It was Marco, Ryan’s chief of personal security.
“Boss!” Marco yelled, raising a submachine gun.
“We’ve got blacked-out SUVs crashing the eastern perimeter fences!”
“They bypassed the outer alarms!”
“They have tactical frequency overrides!”
Ryan didn't flinch.
“Who’s in the banquet hall, Marco?”
“Vance’s private security detail just drew down on the room,” Marco reported, panting.
“They’re separating the council members.”
“They’re looking for the girl, boss.”
“Someone inside tipped them off that Daniel Grant’s daughter is on the staff roster.”
Ryan turned to look at Sophie.
Her eyes were wide with terror, but beneath the fear, there was an unmistakable spark of defiance.
She wasn't crying anymore.
She was standing her ground in the house of her father’s enemies.
“Did you plant that badge on her, Miller?” Ryan asked without taking his eyes off Sophie.
Miller raised his hands in surrender.
“I swear on my mother’s grave, Ryan, I didn't touch that badge!”
“I only came tonight because I received an encrypted text telling me Daniel’s debt was coming due!”
Ryan nodded slowly.
“Then whoever put that shield in her apron didn't do it to get her arrested.”
“They did it to force my hand.”
Ryan reached out, grabbed Sophie by the elbow, and pulled her toward the heavy service stairwell behind the pantry.
“Marco,” Ryan ordered over his shoulder.
“Hold the courtyard.”
“Do not let Vance’s men reach the family wing.”
“Where are you taking me?” Sophie gasped as Ryan dragged her down the spiral concrete steps into the dark belly of the estate.
May you like
“To the only place where the truth is still breathing,” Ryan said grimly.
“The archive vault beneath the east wing.”
