Chapter 4 - The Message Damian Was Never Supposed to Hear
Elena's first instinct was to remain silent.
Her second was to ask the question burning inside her.
"What message?"
Samuel shook his head sharply.
Don't.
The man outside chuckled.
"Open the door and I'll tell you."
Elena tightened her hold on Ethan.
"Tell me first."
"Arthur Hale recorded it the night he died."
Damian had never mentioned a recording.
"Where is it?"
"Open the door."
"No."
The stranger's voice changed.
"You think Cross can protect you?"
Elena looked toward the chair jammed beneath the handle.
"He has so far."
"Cross is the reason your father is dead."
Her stomach dropped.
"You're lying."
"Ask him who ordered Arthur onto Lake Street that night."
A gunshot exploded downstairs.
The man outside cursed.
Footsteps retreated.
Seconds later two more shots cracked through the corridor.
Then silence.
Elena waited.
A knock came.
Three quick taps.
Rafael's voice.
"Clear."
Samuel moved the chair.
Damian entered first.
His white shirt was stained at the sleeve, his expression murderous.
Elena stared at him.
"Are you hurt again?"
"Not mine."
She hated how quickly she was learning what that phrase meant.
Rafael followed with two guards.
"We caught him."
"Alive?" Damian asked.
"Barely."
"Keep him that way."
Elena stepped between them.
"He said my father recorded something."
Damian's gaze shifted.
"He said you ordered my father to Lake Street the night he died."
Silence.
Elena's heart sank.
"So it's true."
Damian dismissed the guards.
"Rafael, restore the generator."
When the room was empty except for Samuel and Ethan, Damian looked at Elena.
"I asked your father to meet me."
"Where?"
"Lake Street."
Her jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"He called me earlier that day. Said he had proof of the betrayal but didn't trust phones."
"And you chose the meeting place."
"Yes."
"He died driving there."
"Yes."
Elena stepped backward as though struck.
"You led him into a trap."
Damian's expression remained still, but his eyes did not.
"I didn't know the route had been compromised."
"My father trusted you."
"I know."
"He wrote that you were the only man who could protect us."
"I know."
"And you got him killed."
Ethan stood.
"Elena."
She couldn't stop.
Seven years of grief had found somewhere to land.
"If you hadn't called him—"
"He might still be alive."
Damian finished the sentence for her.
The room went silent.
Elena stared.
He didn't defend himself.
Didn't tell her she was wrong.
"I have asked myself that every day for five years."
She frowned.
"Five?"
Damian looked toward the rain-dark windows.
"Your father wasn't the only person who died that week."
Samuel quietly led Ethan into the neighboring room.
Elena barely noticed.
Damian unbuttoned his bloodstained cuff.
"My father died Thursday."
Elena knew from newspaper stories that Vincent Cross had died of cancer.
"Arthur died Friday."
Damian continued.
"And Isabella died Saturday."
"Who was Isabella?"
For the first time, the ruthless Damian Cross looked like a man forced to enter a room he had spent years avoiding.
"The woman I was supposed to marry."
Elena stopped breathing.
He walked toward the window.
"We were engaged for eleven months. She wasn't part of the organization. She taught art at a Catholic school in Lincoln Park."
That was not what Elena expected.
"I kept her away from business."
His mouth twisted.
"I thought distance meant safety."
"What happened?"
"Someone planted explosives beneath her car."
Elena's anger softened.
"Damian."
"I was supposed to be driving."
She understood immediately.
"It was meant for you."
"Yes."
He stared at Chicago.
"The funeral was three days after your father's."
Elena thought about the empty bedroom.
Five years sleeping alone.
Every woman refused.
Every marriage alliance rejected.
"You blamed yourself."
"I was responsible."
"That's not the same thing."
He turned.
"You blamed me for your father thirty seconds ago."
She flinched.
He hadn't said it cruelly.
That made it worse.
"I was angry."
"You were right."
"No."
Elena shook her head.
"You arranged a meeting. You didn't crash his car."
"I placed Isabella near me. She died."
"Someone else planted the bomb."
"Because of me."
"And if Ethan died tomorrow because someone wants my key, would that make it my fault?"
Damian's eyes sharpened.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you didn't choose this."
"Neither did Isabella."
That landed.
Damian looked away.
Nobody had argued with his guilt before.
Most people in his world treated grief like weakness.
Elena treated it like a wound somebody had forgotten to clean.
Rafael appeared.
"Power's back. We found the breach."
"What happened?"
"Maintenance override. Someone manually disabled the generator."
"Who had access?"
"Six people."
Damian's voice became cold again.
"Now they have none."
"One is missing."
"Name."
Rafael hesitated.
"Thomas Voss."
Elena frowned.
"Mrs. Voss's son?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Voss had mentioned him once. An electrician who occasionally serviced the estate.
Damian looked toward the door.
"Bring her."
Mrs. Voss entered ten minutes later.
She looked twenty years older.
When Damian said her son's name, she began crying.
"Please."
Elena watched.
Mrs. Voss sank into a chair.
"Marco owns him."
"Explain."
"Thomas gambled. Sports books. Cards. I didn't know how much until Marco's people came to me."
"How much?"
"Two hundred thousand."
Damian's jaw tightened.
"He threatened to kill him if I didn't cooperate."
"So you accepted money to hire Elena."
"It wasn't for me. It went toward Thomas's debt."
"You put everyone in this house at risk."
"I was trying to save my son."
Elena looked at Ethan.
She understood that sentence too well.
Damian noticed.
It made his anger more complicated.
"Where is Thomas?"
"I don't know."
Rafael received a message.
"Boss."
He showed Damian the phone.
Security footage from the underground garage.
Thomas Voss leaving twenty minutes before the blackout.
He wasn't alone.
A bound woman was being forced into the passenger seat.
Vivienne Salvi.
Damian swore.
Mrs. Voss covered her mouth.
"Thomas wouldn't hurt her."
"He's working for Marco."
"No. Thomas said Marco was going to kill him once the job was finished."
Damian looked at her.
"What job?"
Mrs. Voss began shaking.
"Finding Arthur Hale's second file."
Elena stepped closer.
"There isn't one."
Mrs. Voss looked at her.
"Arthur mailed something to you before he died."
"No."
"Marco believes he did."
Elena remembered.
A package.
Years ago.
Three days after the funeral.
It contained childhood photographs, her father's watch, documents from his office and a small wooden music box.
She still owned it.
Her face betrayed her.
Damian noticed instantly.
"What?"
"There's a box."
"What box?"
"My father's things. It came after his death."
"Where?"
"My apartment."
Damian grabbed his coat.
Rafael shook his head.
"Could be a trap."
"It is."
Elena followed him.
"Then don't go."
He looked at her.
"It's evidence your father died protecting."
"I'll come."
"No."
"We had this argument yesterday."
"And I won."
"You absolutely did not."
Rafael murmured, "She's got you there."
Damian gave him a stare capable of ending careers.
Elena folded her arms.
"If Marco is looking for something inside my belongings, I know where those belongings are."
Three SUVs left the estate twenty minutes later.
The streets were nearly empty beneath heavy snow.
Elena sat beside Damian in the back.
Neither spoke.
At her apartment building, Damian's men secured the staircase.
The front door had already been forced open.
Elena's heart sank.
"Ethan's room."
She ran inside.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress cut.
Furniture overturned.
The music box sat broken on the kitchen floor.
Elena crouched.
"No."
Damian picked up one shattered piece.
Something rattled inside.
He carefully broke away the remaining wood.
A tiny flash drive fell into his palm.
Elena stared.
"The second file."
Damian slid it into his pocket.
Then Rafael shouted from the hallway.
"Movement!"
A window shattered.
Damian pushed Elena behind the kitchen counter.
Gunfire erupted from the opposite building.
Sniper.
Damian's men returned fire.
Elena's breath came fast.
Damian shielded her body with his.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
Glass rained over them.
Then she saw a red dot move across Damian's chest.
"Damian!"
She grabbed his jacket and yanked him sideways.
A bullet struck the cabinet where his heart had been.
Damian landed over her.
For a moment neither moved.
Their faces were inches apart.
His breathing was rough.
Her hands were still clutching his coat.
"You saved my life."
"You saved mine yesterday."
"That makes us even."
Another shot hit the wall.
Elena almost laughed.
"Can we discuss accounting later?"
Damian's mouth moved.
That almost-smile again.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
A photograph opened.
Vivienne was tied to a chair.
Beside her stood Thomas Voss.
And kneeling at their feet was someone Elena recognized.
Mrs. Voss.
The caption contained six words.
BRING THE DRIVE OR ALL THREE DIE.
Below it was an address.
Damian stared at the screen.
Elena stared at him.
"We're not giving them that drive."
"No."
"Then what?"
Damian rose, gun in hand.
The warmth she had glimpsed disappeared.
The man standing above her now was the Damian Cross Chicago feared.
"Then Marco Salvi learns why people stopped threatening what belongs to me."
Elena's heart stumbled.
She didn't know whether he meant the ledger.
The evidence.
His people.
May you like
Or her.
And she was suddenly terrified of how much she wanted to know.
