Chapter 7 - The Discovery of an Inside Traitor and the Blood-Soaked Ledger Left Behind in the Restaurant Basement
Within twenty minutes of the phone call ending, the quiet backstreet outside the old dry cleaners was transformed.
Two sleek, unmarked black SUVs pulled up silently to the curb, their headlights killing their beams as they parked in the shadows.
Four heavily armed men in dark tactical gear stepped out, establishing a protective perimeter around the building without uttering a single word.
Inside Apartment 4B, Sloan didn't wait for Delphine to invite him to stay.
He paced across her narrow linoleum floor like a caged panther, his encrypted satellite phone pressed tightly against his ear as he barked rapid-fire orders in Italian and English to his regional commanders.
“Track every traffic camera within a three-block radius of the Copper Lantern,” Sloan commanded into the receiver.
“Find Leo Vance—or whatever his real name is—and pull every phone record, bank transfer, and associate linked to him from the last six months. If he crossed county lines, I want him hunted down before sunrise. Alive if possible, but bring me his head if he resists.”
He snapped the phone shut and slid it into his trouser pocket, turning his fierce, burning gaze back toward Delphine.
Delphine was standing by her kitchenette sink, her arms tightly folded, her face pale in the harsh kitchen light.
“You need to pack a bag,” Sloan stated flatly.
“I am not packing a bag, and I am certainly not going anywhere with you, Sloan,” Delphine fired back instantly, her voice rising in sharp defiance.
“Did you not just hear your sister on the phone? Someone inside that restaurant tried to murder her using a targeted allergen contaminant. If they knew she had a severe nut allergy, they also know who served her, who saved her, and where I live!”
“Let them come,” Sloan growled, taking a massive step toward her, his chest heaving with dark adrenaline.
“For three years, I let you hide because I thought keeping my distance would keep you safe from my enemies. But today, those bastards brought the war directly to the woman who saved my sister’s life. You are no longer safe in this miserable rat trap, Delphine. Whether you want to admit it or not, your name is tied to mine again.”
“My name is Delphine Vance,” she corrected him fiercely, stepping up to him until her chest nearly brushed his shirt.
“I signed divorce papers three years ago in blood and ink.”
“You signed a piece of paper that I never legally countersigned, Delphine,” Sloan whispered, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
“Under the eyes of my family and the laws of our world, you are my wife until the day one of us is lowered into the ground. And I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
Before Delphine could think of a sufficiently lethal retort, a sharp rap sounded on the apartment door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Sloan didn’t blink.
He drew a heavy, suppressed pistol from his shoulder holster in one fluid, terrifyingly fast motion and stepped to the side of the doorway.
“Open it,” he muttered to Delphine.
With a deep breath, Delphine turned the deadbolt and pulled the door inward.
Bishop stood in the hallway, his face bruised from a scuffle, holding a blood-stained leather ledger under one arm.
“Boss,” Bishop nodded respectfully toward Sloan, ignoring Delphine completely.
“We raided the restaurant basement ten minutes ago. Leo didn't get far. We found his burner phone in the grease trap behind the kitchen.”
“And?” Sloan demanded, stepping into the doorway.
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“And he wasn't working for a rival family,” Bishop said, his eyes shifting darkly toward Sloan.
“The wire transfers to his offshore account came directly from a shell company owned by your cousin, Viktor Marchetti.”
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