Chapter 6 - Midnight at Warehouse Nine
The plan was terrible.
I told Adrian that six times.
He agreed every time.
Then we did it anyway.
Warehouse Nine stood abandoned along Boston Harbor, its burned shell hidden behind newer shipping buildings.
Twenty years earlier, Sofia Moretti had died there.
Now her husband wanted to meet her son in the same place.
Men like Vittorio apparently considered symbolism a personality.
“You stay in the vehicle,” Adrian told me.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“The ledger page is mine.”
“It belongs to whoever survives tonight.”
“Comforting.”
He looked at me.
“You promised to follow instructions when bullets start.”
“No bullets yet.”
His jaw tightened.
“I regret that wording.”
Marco hid another smile.
We wore concealed transmitters.
Federal agents waited several blocks away.
Yes, federal agents.
Gabriel had contacted the same investigator he'd once planned to meet twenty years earlier.
The investigator was now a deputy director.
For once, Adrian had agreed that some problems required badges.
At eleven fifty-eight, we entered the warehouse.
Vittorio waited in the center.
Seeing him was like watching an older version of Adrian reflected through broken glass.
Same height.
Same gray eyes.
But nothing warm behind them.
Isabella sat in a chair beside him.
Untouched.
Angry.
“Adrian,” she said.
“Nonna.”
“Do not give him anything.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Still controlling.”
Adrian approached.
“Let her go.”
“Ledger.”
I stepped forward.
Vittorio looked at me.
“Daniel’s daughter.”
I hated how casually he said it.
“You killed my father.”
“He made an unfortunate choice.”
“My father saved someone else's life.”
“He died on a wet road.”
Adrian’s voice became cold.
“Enough.”
Vittorio looked at his son.
“You always were sentimental about damaged things.”
Adrian's hand curled.
“You mean people?”
“Same difference.”
I saw something change in Adrian.
Not rage.
Release.
As though hearing his father speak finally destroyed whatever childlike loyalty remained.
“You killed Mom.”
Vittorio shrugged.
“Sofia chose principles over family.”
“She chose innocent lives over money.”
“She chose weakness.”
Adrian stared.
Then slowly removed the black wolf ring he wore on his right hand.
He dropped it.
Metal struck concrete.
“I spent twenty years trying to be worthy of this family.”
Vittorio smiled.
“And now?”
“I finally understand being worthy means ending what you built.”
Vittorio’s expression changed.
“There he is.”
Men appeared along the upper catwalk.
Weapons.
I felt Adrian shift closer to me.
“Page,” Vittorio demanded.
I held it up.
“Let Isabella walk.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
His eyes moved to me.
“You know, Daniel was exactly like you.”
“Good.”
“Stubborn.”
“Also good.”
“He thought courage protected people.”
My voice shook, but I kept speaking.
“No. He knew courage might get him killed.”
Vittorio's smile disappeared.
“He did it anyway.”
Isabella suddenly laughed.
Everyone looked at her.
“My God, Vittorio.”
“What?”
“You spent your whole life wanting people to fear you.”
She shook her head.
“And this little girl is not afraid.”
“I’m twenty-seven,” I said automatically.
Isabella smiled.
“Forgive me.”
Vittorio lifted a gun.
Adrian moved in front of me.
“You shoot her, you never get the page.”
“I don't need the paper.”
My stomach dropped.
Vittorio looked toward the roof.
“I needed all of you in one place.”
A low beeping began.
Marco shouted through Adrian’s earpiece.
“Boss, explosives!”
Vittorio smiled.
Like the fire twenty years ago.
He planned to erase everything again.
Adrian lunged.
Gunfire erupted.
I dropped behind a steel barrier.
Isabella kicked one guard’s knee with her cane and somehow stole his weapon.
At seventy years old.
I decided never to underestimate her again.
Marco’s team stormed through the side entrance.
Federal agents followed.
Vittorio ran toward the rear loading doors.
Adrian chased him.
“Adrian!”
He didn't stop.
I saw the timer attached to a support column.
Two minutes.
“Everyone out!”
Agents began evacuating.
I reached Isabella.
“Can you walk?”
“I can run.”
She proved it.
Then I heard a gunshot from the rear corridor.
Adrian.
I turned.
“Elena!” Marco shouted.
I ran anyway.
“Damn it!”
I found Adrian near the old furnace room.
Blood covered his shoulder.
Vittorio stood ten feet away holding a gun.
“Move away from him,” Vittorio ordered me.
“No.”
Adrian gritted his teeth.
“Elena, go.”
“No.”
Vittorio laughed.
“You see? Women make men stupid.”
Adrian smiled painfully.
“My mother made you stupid enough to burn down an empire.”
Vittorio raised the gun.
I pulled the fire alarm lever beside me.
Nothing happened.
Vittorio looked confused.
Then the ancient emergency doors slammed down between us.
Adrian stared at me.
“How—”
“My father maintained the ventilation systems, remember?”
I pointed to the manual emergency controls.
The steel door trapped Vittorio on the opposite side.
He fired into it.
“Run,” Adrian said.
This time I listened.
We sprinted.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty.
We reached the loading dock.
Adrian stumbled.
I caught him.
Ten.
Marco grabbed us.
The explosion lifted the earth.
Heat rolled across the harbor.
Glass shattered.
Flames tore through the roof.
For several seconds, I could hear nothing.
Then Adrian moved.
“Elena?”
“I'm here.”
He touched my face with his uninjured hand.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
Federal agents surrounded the building.
Fire crews approached.
Isabella stood nearby wrapped in a blanket.
Alive.
My mother arrived with Gabriel twenty minutes later despite strict instructions to remain at Belladonna.
Apparently my inability to follow orders was genetic.
They found Vittorio alive beneath part of the collapsed loading structure.
Badly injured.
But alive.
Agents arrested him before the ambulance doors closed.
Salvatore was arrested two hours later at a private airfield.
Lydia Crane entered protective custody.
The ledger exposed shipping operations, offshore accounts, corrupt officials, and decades of crimes.
Adrian spent three days in the hospital.
I spent most of those days pretending I was only there because our fake engagement required appearances.
Nobody believed me.
Especially Isabella.
On the third morning, Adrian woke to find me sleeping in a chair beside his bed.
“Five minutes?” he asked.
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“You said you'd rest five minutes.”
I looked at the clock.
Six hours had passed.
“Apparently I have a problem.”
He smiled.
The sight did something inconvenient to my heart.
His shoulder was bandaged.
Bruises covered his ribs.
But he looked alive.
Really alive.
I sat upright.
“The doctors said you can leave tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“The agents want another interview.”
“I know.”
“Your grandmother has threatened two nurses.”
“I know.”
“She likes you too much,” I said.
“Impossible.”
Silence settled.
The crisis was ending.
That should have felt good.
Instead, something cold gathered inside me.
Because our agreement had an ending.
Until Adrian ended this.
Then I walked away.
He watched me.
“You're thinking loudly.”
“I don't do that.”
“You do.”
I twisted Sofia’s ring.
His eyes followed the movement.
I removed it.
The diamond felt heavier than it had the first morning.
“This belongs to you.”
He didn't take it.
“Elena.”
“The danger is over.”
“Mostly.”
“Vittorio is in custody. Salvatore too.”
“Yes.”
“So our deal is finished.”
He stared at the ring in my palm.
“Is that what you want?”
The question hurt.
Because three days earlier, the answer would have been obvious.
Now I remembered Adrian covering my body when glass exploded.
Listening to me when nobody else did.
Breaking apart when he heard his mother's voice.
Trusting me with the truth.
And irritating me every hour in between.
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
That was worse.
“You promised no strings,” I said.
“I did.”
“So take the ring.”
He slowly reached out.
His fingers closed over mine.
But he didn't take it.
Instead he folded my hand around the diamond.
“Keep it until you're sure.”
“Adrian.”
“No pressure.”
“This is probably worth more than my apartment building.”
“Then don't lose it.”
I laughed despite myself.
His thumb brushed my knuckles.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“Rule number one,” he murmured.
“What about it?”
“You mentioned it was inconvenient.”
My heart jumped.
“Yes.”
“Still inconvenient?”
I looked at his mouth.
Then his eyes.
“Extremely.”
He moved closer.
Slowly.
Giving me time to stop him.
I didn't.
Our first kiss was not dramatic.
No orchestra.
No crashing thunder.
Just warm, careful, and devastatingly gentle.
When we separated, I whispered:
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Yes.”
“We're very different.”
“Yes.”
“You have armed guards.”
“You noticed.”
“My cat hates strangers.”
“That may be the real obstacle.”
I laughed.
And for one perfect second, the entire nightmare disappeared.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I froze.
Adrian’s expression changed.
I answered.
A woman spoke.
“Elena Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Rebecca Shaw. I represent the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
Adrian listened.
“We found something among Vittorio Moretti’s records.”
“What?”
“A contract.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“A contract concerning you.”
Adrian sat upright despite his wound.
“From when?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“From eleven years ago.”
I would have been sixteen.
“What does it say?”
Her answer erased every bit of warmth from the room.
“It authorizes payment if Elena Brooks dies before her twenty-eighth birthday.”
I stopped breathing.
My twenty-eighth birthday was in six weeks.
Adrian slowly reached for my hand.
The war wasn't over.
May you like
Someone else had inherited Vittorio’s order.
And they still had six weeks to finish it.
