Chapter 9 - The Blood-Drenched Canvas
Z
The rain began to fall in heavy, deliberate sheets, hammering against the metal roof of the barn. I stood frozen in the downpour, the cold water soaking through my flannel shirt, but I didn't feel it. All I felt was the sudden, terrifying return of a rage I thought I had buried forever.
"Where is Kazakhov operating from?" I demanded, my hands clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists.
"A private marina in Sheepshead Bay," Lorenzo answered. "They’ve turned an abandoned seafood packing plant into a staging ground. Adrian is hiding there under a dozen heavy automatic rifles. He knows you’re retired, Dominic. He thinks you're weak. He thinks without the Moretti soldiers at your back, you're just an middle-aged man with a bank account."
"He's right about one thing," I said, looking toward the farmhouse. Through the kitchen window, I could see the soft yellow light glowing inside. Elena was at the counter, her back to the window, chopping vegetables for dinner. Sofia was sitting at the wooden table, swinging her little feet while drawing with red crayons on a piece of paper.
They were entirely safe right now. But if Adrian was breathing, if Kazakhov was supplying him with muscle, that safety was a ticking clock.
"I need two hours," I told Lorenzo.
"For what?"
"To ensure my family is secured." I turned back to Lorenzo, my eyes locking onto his with absolute savagery. "And then you and I are going to Sheepshead Bay."
Lorenzo smirked. "I knew the ghost was still in there somewhere."
I walked back into the farmhouse quietly, taking off my wet boots at the door. I walked straight upstairs to the master bedroom, opened the heavy oak wardrobe, and pulled down a false wooden panel at the very back.
Inside lay a black leather case that had remained untouched for eight months. I unzipped it. Inside lay two matched, custom-made Sig Sauer P226 pistols, six fully loaded magazines, and a titanium-blade trench knife. Beside the weapons was a dark blue wool coat—clean, pressed, and heavy.
I didn't feel fear. I felt a terrifying, crystalline clarity. I had tried to build a sanctuary on soft grass and sweet promises, but I had forgotten the fundamental rule of the world I came from: You cannot build a paradise on top of unresolved blood.
I packed the case, walked down the stairs, and entered the kitchen.
Elena turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. Her smile instantly dissolved when she saw my face. She looked at the heavy leather case in my hand, then up at my eyes, which were once again as cold and lifeless as gray slate.
"Dominic..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that?"
"Marco was hurt," I said simply. "Adrian is in New York."
Elena dropped the towel. "No. No, Dominic, please. You promised. You said it was over. We built a life here!"
"And he is coming to tear it down, Elena," I said, stepping across the linoleum and taking her face in my hands. Her skin was warm, contrasting violently with my ice-cold fingers. "If I stay here and wait for them, this house becomes a battlefield. I won't let them bring blood to this porch again."
Sofia looked up from her drawing, sensing the sudden shift in the air. "Dominic? Are you going away?"
I broke eye contact with Elena and knelt beside the little girl. I took her hand—the small, soft hand that had held the leaf six months ago.
"I have to go take care of a problem in the city, Sofia," I said, my voice softening as much as my throat would allow. "I need you to stay with your mother. Some of Lorenzo's men are going to stand outside the gate. They are good men. They will keep you safe until I return."
Sofia looked at me, her big brown eyes filled with an unsettling intelligence. She reached into her pocket, pulled out Miss Rose, and pressed the damp cloth doll into my palm.
"Take her," Sofia said solemnly. "So you don't get lonely."
May you like
I looked at the small doll in my hand, feeling the immense weight of the innocent child who trusted me completely. I tucked Miss Rose safely into the inner pocket of my heavy blue coat.
"I'll bring her back by morning," I promised.
