Chapter 11 - The Siren’s Call
Z
The heavy aluminum door of the restaurant kitchen slammed shut behind me as I sprinted through the dark, grease-stained hallway. Behind me, the muffled thud of a gunshot shattered the glass panel of the door, sending sharp shards spraying into the air.
I didn't scream. Panic had transcended terror, turning my muscles into iron and my mind into a sharp, singular focus.
I burst through the rear exit into the narrow, rain-slicked alleyway behind Bellini's. The cold air slapped my face, filling my lungs with the smell of wet pavement and trash cans. I didn't head for my apartment, and I didn't head for the police station. Vance was already convinced Dante was guilty, and Luca owned half the local precinct.
There was only one person left in this city who hated Luca more than I did.
I pulled my phone from my pocket as I ran through the dark alleys, wiping the rain from the cracked screen. I dialed a number I had memorized from the legal documents left on Dante's desk three weeks ago.
The line rang twice before a cold, familiar voice answered.
"Who is this?"
"Vanessa," I panted, ducking under a fire escape as a black town car slid slowly past the alley entrance, its headlights cutting through the rain. "It's Cara Fields."
A long, suffocating silence hung on the line. Then, a low, cruel laugh rattled through the speaker.
"Well, well," Vanessa drawled from her federal holding cell. "The heroic little waitress. Calling me from a burner phone, I presume? Did Dante tire of your domestic charm already?"
"Luca framed Dante," I said, my voice cutting through her taunts like a blade. "He transferred twelve million from the Swiss fund to Panama and pinned it on Dante. Vance just arrested him."
Vanessa’s laughter stopped instantly. The silence on the phone turned heavy, dangerous.
"The old fox finally made his move," Vanessa murmured, her tone shifting from mockery to dark fascination. "I told Dante that old man was a parasite. Luca never wanted legitimacy. He wanted the keys to the kingdom without the burden of the Moretti name."
"I need to prove Dante is innocent," I said, hiding behind a rusted dumpster as the black car idle at the corner. "And you need a way out of that federal deal. Luca betrayed you too, didn't he? He was the one who gave Vance the wiretap logs from Bellini’s."
A sharp intake of breath whistled through the phone.
"You're smarter than you look, waitress," Vanessa hissed, her composure slipping into pure venom. "Luca promised my father he would keep the family structure intact if I took the fall for the brake line sabotage. He played us both."
"Tell me how to break the encryption on the Swiss account," I demanded, watching the black car turn the corner. "You have the secondary key. Your father built that system."
"And why would I help you save the man who put me in prison?" Vanessa asked softly.
"Because if Dante stays in prison, Luca gets the entire twelve million, your father’s syndicate dies, and you spend the next thirty years rotting in a federal penitentiary," I said coldly. "Help me destroy Luca, and I’ll make sure my statement to the prosecutor reflects that you were coerced by Luca from the very beginning."
Vanessa let out a sharp, amused breath. "You really are turning into one of us, aren't you? Fine. The secondary key isn't a digital drive. It's a physical ledger hidden inside the frame of the oil painting in Dante's study at the Blackwood estate."
My stomach turned. The painting of the harbor. Dante hadn't lied to me in the restaurant—he had given me the location, but he couldn't say it aloud with Vance standing there.
"Luca is already heading to the estate to clear it out," I said, my heart sinking.
May you like
"Then you better get there first, darling," Vanessa whispered, her voice dripping with malice. "And Cara? If you see Luca... don't shoot him in the chest. He wears Kevlar. Aim for the throat."
The line went dead.
