Chapter 2 - Secrets in the Shadows
Nico grabbed Mia’s elbow with a grip that was firm but surprisingly careful of her balance.
“Get inside the study, right now.”
Reed closed the mahogany doors of the vestibule, locking the heavy brass deadbolt with a muted click.
They moved down a private corridor lined with oil paintings of Romano ancestors who looked down with stern, unforgiving eyes.
The private study was fortress-like, panelled in dark walnut with thick soundproof curtains drawn over the windows.
A fire burned low in the stone hearth, casting long, dancing shadows across the leather furniture.
Nico shut the heavy double doors behind them and turned the key in the lock.
He walked straight to the mahogany desk, pulled open a bottom drawer, and brought out a bottle of dark scotch.
He poured three fingers into a heavy crystal glass and drank it in a single swallow without flinching.
Mia stood near the center of the Persian rug, her hands remaining cupped protectively over her stomach.
“I need to sit down,” she whispered, her knees suddenly trembling under the sheer weight of the room.
Nico gestured toward a deep leather armchair beside the fire.
“Sit.”
She sank into the leather, feeling the warmth of the hearth contrast with the cold sweat running down her spine.
Nico turned to Sergeant Reed, who stood by the bookcase like a soldier awaiting a court-martial.
“Talk to me, Thomas.”
Reed took a slow, deliberate breath, his weathered hands clasped behind his back in an instinctive parade rest.
“Jake didn't die in that vehicle, Nico.”
Nico’s eyes flashed with suppressed rage.
“You stood at his memorial service in Arlington, you gave my father the folded flag.”
“I gave your father what the chain of command instructed me to give him.”
Mia leaned forward, her voice cutting through the men’s mounting fury.
“Jake told me he worked as a freelance diesel mechanic, he never mentioned a war, he never mentioned a family.”
Nico looked at her, his expression darkening with realization.
“He had to erase his identity to stay alive.”
Mia shook her head, trying to reconcile the gentle man who rubbed her feet with a ghost on the run from the military.
“Why would he hide from his own family?”
Nico looked toward the portrait of an older man hanging above the mantelpiece.
The man in the painting had harsh gray eyes, silver hair, and the exact same proud jawline as Nico.
“Our father was Anthony Romano.”
Mia waited, not understanding the significance of the name.
“He was the Undersecretary of Defense for Logistics before he founded Romano Strategic Defense.”
Reed cleared his throat, his tone grim.
“Your father controlled the contracts for every private military logistics corridor in the Middle East.”
Mia’s breath hitched in her throat.
“Jake’s own father?”
Nico set his crystal glass down on the desk with a heavy, deliberate thud.
“Jake hated the company business, he wanted nothing to do with the contracts or the political influence.”
Reed stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper.
“Six months before Jake’s alleged death, he was transferred out of my unit without orders.”
Nico snapped his head toward the veteran.
“Transferred where?”
“An off-the-books task force called Vanguard Nine.”
Mia repeated the name under her breath, a chill running through her veins.
“What is Vanguard Nine?”
Reed looked at Mia with deep pity in his eyes.
“It was an extraction team operated jointly by private contractors and military intelligence.”
Nico’s fists clenched at his sides.
“My father’s contractors.”
“Yes,” Reed admitted softly.
Mia closed her eyes, and suddenly a memory from six months ago crashed through her mind with blinding clarity.
It was three o'clock in the morning on an unseasonably cold night in March.
She had woken up thirsty and padded barefoot down the short hallway toward the kitchen.
Jake had been sitting at the laminate table in the dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of a burner phone screen.
He had been speaking in a hurried, desperate whisper that sounded nothing like his usual calm voice.
She remembered standing in the shadow of the doorway, hearing only a single, fragmented sentence before he hung up.
“If the Romanos find out I survived the compound, she becomes leverage against everything I buried.”
At the time, Mia had assumed he was dealing with old gambling debts or a troubled ex-girlfriend.
She had walked into the kitchen, turned on the tap, and asked him who was calling so late.
Jake had immediately dropped the phone into his pocket, smiled his crooked smile, and pulled her into his arms.
He had told her it was just an old buddy from the motor pool needing advice on a transmission.
She had believed him without question because she loved him without condition.
Mia opened her eyes, finding both Nico and Reed staring at her pale face.
“He knew,” Mia said, her voice cracking under the emotional strain.
Nico stepped closer, towering over her chair.
“What did he know, Mia?”
“Three nights before he disappeared, I heard him on the phone.”
She repeated the words Jake had spoken in the dark kitchen six months ago.
Nico’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face for the second time that evening.
“He wasn't running from foreign enemies, he was running from us.”
Reed cursed softly under his breath.
“If Jake discovered what Vanguard Nine was smuggling through the Romano supply routes, he had to disappear.”
Mia gripped the armrests of the leather chair, feeling a sharp twinge in her lower back.
“If he staged his death eighteen months ago to escape, why did he leave me six months ago?”
Nico looked at her rounded belly, his expression hardening into pure, unyielding resolve.
“Because someone found him in Queens.”
Mia gasped, pressing her hands against her mouth.
“He left to protect me.”
“He left to draw them away from you,” Nico corrected.
The sharp knock at the heavy study door shattered the room’s suffocating quiet.
Nico moved like a predator, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling a matte-black pistol from a concealed holster.
He stepped to the side of the door, his weapon held at low ready.
“Who is it?”
A voice came through the thick wood, muffled but urgent.
“Mr. Romano, it’s Miller from the front gate security.”
Nico unlocked the door with his left hand, keeping the weapon concealed behind the frame.
“What’s wrong, Miller?”
The security guard stood outside, rain dripping from his black waterproof jacket.
“We have a situation at the south perimeter gate, sir.”
Nico’s eyes remained icy.
“What kind of situation?”
“An unmarked black Suburban just pulled up with federal government registration plates.”
Mia stood up from the armchair, her heart pounding against her ribs.
The guard swallowed nervously, looking past Nico into the study.
“They aren't asking for you, Mr. Romano.”
Nico didn't blink.
“Who are they asking for?”
May you like
The guard looked directly at Mia.
“They are demanding entry to take custody of a temporary catering employee named Mia Walker.”
