Chapter 5 - The Night the Mansion BurnedThe first man who entered my study died before his second step.
Caleb fired twice. The intruder collapsed against the doorway, his weapon skidding across the floor.
I dragged Nora toward the service corridor while bullets struck the bookshelves. Glass burst around us. The air filled with dust, gunpowder, and the sharp smell of burning wood.
"Where's Maisie?" I shouted.
"Mrs. Porter took her to the nursery!"
"Then we're going to the nursery."
"Gabriel, no!"
I turned toward Nora.
She was staring at the blood spreading across my left sleeve.
A bullet had grazed my arm. I hadn't noticed until then.
"You're hurt."
"I've had worse paper cuts."
It was a terrible joke, but she almost smiled.
We reached the east hallway just as Caleb's men drove the attackers back toward the main entrance. The estate's emergency lights flickered on, washing the corridor in red.
Mrs. Porter appeared at the top of the stairs with Maisie in her arms.
The little girl was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
"Mommy!"
Nora ran to her.
Maisie wrapped herself around her mother's neck.
I watched them for a moment, and something unfamiliar tightened behind my ribs. I had seen children lose fathers, mothers, and entire families. I had once ordered an entire neighborhood evacuated after a rival gang threatened a school.
But I had never felt the terror of imagining one particular child dying.
"Caleb!" I shouted.
He appeared with two guards.
"Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves. Nobody enters. I want every camera reviewed."
"It's already happening."
"Find the shooters."
He nodded toward the eastern lawn.
"Three are dead. One is alive."
"Good."
We found the surviving attacker in the greenhouse, bleeding from his thigh. Caleb crouched beside him and ripped off his mask.
I recognized the tattoo on his wrist.
A black wolf surrounded by three stars.
Bellandi.
The rival family had spent years trying to take control of Chicago's ports and warehouses. Two months earlier, Dante had proposed a private truce with them. He had claimed that he could convince them to leave us alone.
I now suspected what he had offered in exchange.
"Who sent you?" I asked.
The man spat blood onto the floor.
"You're already dead, Marchetti."
Caleb pressed a pistol against his cheek.
"Wrong answer."
I raised a hand.
"Let him speak."
The attacker smiled through his pain.
"Your brother said the little girl was supposed to disappear tonight. He said nobody would miss her if the fire spread."
My entire body went still.
"What little girl?"
He glanced past me.
Maisie stood in the doorway, held tightly by Nora.
The attacker's smile faded.
"Oh," he muttered. "You haven't told him everything, have you?"
I stepped forward.
"What are you talking about?"
He laughed.
"Ask Dante who signed the order."
Then he bit down hard.
Caleb grabbed his jaw, but it was too late. A glass capsule shattered between the man's teeth. He convulsed once and went limp.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Dante.
Brother, I heard there was trouble at the estate. I hope you're safe. Let me know if I can help.
I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
He had attacked my home, endangered my men, and tried to kill a child.
Then he had sent me a courteous message.
The old Gabriel Marchetti would have driven straight to Dante's house and shot him in the face.
The new Gabriel had something more valuable than revenge.
He had a daughter who was still alive.
I slipped the phone into my pocket and approached Maisie.
She watched my injured arm.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
She reached into her dress and produced a tiny paper star.
"I made this for you, too."
I took it carefully.
"Thank you."
She looked at the blood on my sleeve.
"Mommy says angry people do bad things."
"Your mommy is a wise woman."
Maisie studied my face.
"Are you angry?"
"Yes."
"Will you do bad things?"
I looked toward the blackened windows of my study.
Then I looked back at her.
"Not to you."
She seemed satisfied with that answer.
But as Nora carried her upstairs, I unfolded the paper star.
Inside was a strip of paper containing a name.
Not Dante's.
Not Bellandi's.
It was the name of the doctor who had declared my daughter dead.
Dr. Victor Bell.
May you like
Beneath it, in Elena's handwriting, were four more words.
He never died alone.
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