Chapter 2 - The Mark of the Crest
The private study on the third floor of the manor smelled of aged leather, cedar, and gunpowder.
Downstairs, police cruisers and private security vehicles were already sealing off the estate gates.
Ava sat on a dark leather wingback chair, shivering despite the warmth radiating from the stone fireplace.
Her black uniform jacket lay discarded on the floor, soaked with blood along the left sleeve.
Nico Romano stood over her, holding a silver medical tray lined with antiseptic gauze and suture tape.
He had refused to let the emergency medical technicians touch her.
He had locked the heavy oak doors, cutting them off from the terrified staff and questioning detectives.
"Hold still," Nico ordered, his voice remarkably steady for a man who had nearly been crushed to death.
He dipped a cotton pad into iodine and pressed it against the long laceration on her shoulder.
Ava hissed in pain, her hands gripping the armrests until her knuckles turned white.
"I told you I could go to the local clinic," Ava whispered, turning her face away from the sting.
"A local clinic files police reports," Nico replied coldly as he cleaned the wound.
"A police report generates questions from the district attorney."
"And questions bring unwanted cameras into my home."
"I don't need cameras right now, Ava."
"I need the truth."
He set the cotton pad aside and unrolled sterile white gauze.
His hands were large and calloused, but his movements were surprisingly precise and gentle.
"Look at me," Nico commanded.
Ava slowly turned her head and met his dark, unblinking stare.
"You are going to tell me everything that happened seven years ago," he said, wrapping the gauze firmly around her shoulder.
"Do not leave out a single detail."
"If I find out you were planted in my household by the Vance family, you will never leave this room."
Ava felt a surge of indignation pierce through her shock.
"I was nineteen years old, Mr. Romano," she said, her voice trembling with rising anger.
"My father was an honest accountant who died in debt to loan sharks from the south docks."
"Those men cornered my car on Route 9 in the middle of a November thunderstorm."
"They dragged me out into the mud because my father owed them eighty thousand dollars."
Nico pinned the medical tape against her skin, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Continue," he said quietly.
"A black sedan pulled up behind their truck," Ava recalled, her eyes glazing over as memory took hold.
"A man got out."
"He didn't yell."
"He didn't run."
"He just walked into the rain with a heavy trench coat and an iron pipe."
"In less than two minutes, three grown men were unconscious on the pavement."
Nico’s jaw clenched tightly.
"Did he give you his name?"
"He asked me who my father was," Ava said.
"When I said Arthur Collins, his entire posture changed."
"He pulled me onto my feet and gave me an envelope filled with cash from his glove box."
"He told me to pay off the debt, leave the city, and never look back."
"I asked him who he was so I could repay him."
"He told me his name was Ethan."
Nico took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding beneath his dust-streaked shirt.
"Anyone can claim the name Ethan," Nico said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"He wore a ring," Ava said immediately.
Nico went completely still.
"What kind of ring?"
"Heavy silver," Ava said, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.
"It had two wolves carved on either side, facing a shield."
"And down the center of the shield, there was a jagged diagonal cut."
Nico stepped back from the chair as if he had been struck.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch.
He untied the golden drawstring and tipped the contents into his open palm.
A silver signet ring rolled out.
It was identical to the one Ava had described, except for one critical detail.
The shield on Nico's ring was completely smooth and intact.
"This ring belonged to our father," Nico whispered, staring down at the metal.
"When Ethan turned eighteen, our father presented him with the firstborn's seal."
"Before Ethan took it, he dropped it onto the granite steps of the estate and chipped the face of the shield."
"He refused to have it repaired."
"He said the crack proved that nothing in the Romano bloodline was unbreakable."
Ava looked from the ring in his hand to the expression on his face.
For the first time since she had started working here, Nico Romano didn't look like an untouchable titan.
He looked like a brother who had spent a decade drowning in unresolved grief.
"Where was the explosion?" Ava asked softly.
Nico walked over to the tall arched window overlooking the dark estate grounds.
"Vale Harbor," Nico said, watching the rain streak down the glass.
"Ethan was twenty-eight."
"He was supposed to take over the family shipping logistics network."
"A bomb was planted beneath the engine block of his yacht while it was docked at Pier 14."
"The blast ripped the vessel in half and ignited twenty thousand gallons of diesel fuel."
"The fire burned for fourteen hours."
"They found his watch, his wallet, and fragments of bone that matched his dental records."
"We held a closed-casket funeral in the family mausoleum ten years ago."
"I stood in the rain and watched them lower an empty mahogany box into the earth."
Ava gripped the arms of the chair.
"The dental records were forged," she said.
Nico turned around slowly, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.
"If Ethan is alive, he didn't just walk away from this family," Nico said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"He abandoned me to fight a three-front war alone."
"He let me bury him."
"And he let the men who tried to kill him believe they had won."
A heavy knock rattled the mahogany door of the study.
"Boss," Marcus’s voice called through the wood.
Nico walked over and unlocked the heavy brass bolt.
Marcus stepped into the room, his face grim and pale under the amber chandelier light.
He held a plastic evidence bag containing a dark smear of mechanical grease.
"We ran the compound through the chemical analyzer in the garage," Marcus said, glancing warily at Ava.
"Speak," Nico commanded.
"It’s not commercial grease, Nico," Marcus said grimly.
"It’s a specialized synthetic lubricant custom-formulated for our private fleet of armored vehicles."
"It comes out of a locked drum in our private workshop on this property."
Nico’s eyes narrowed into slits.
"Which means?" Nico asked.
"Which means nobody broke into this house tonight," Marcus answered.
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"The person who loosened that chandelier has keys to the vehicle bay."
"The person who tried to kill you lives under your roof."
