Chapter 13 - The First WarThe attackers weren't there to kill them.
They were there to take them.
Dante fought anyway.
The room became a storm of shattered furniture, gunfire, and shouted commands.
Beatrice pulled Maggie toward the basement.
They escaped through a hidden wine cellar.
Her mother followed.
Alexander disappeared.
Again.
At the bottom of the stairs, Beatrice found a metal door.
Behind it was a tunnel leading to the subway.
“Your family built this?”
“No.”
Dante emerged behind her.
“The Wilkes family.”
“Why?”
“During Prohibition.”
“You're kidding.”
“I wish.”
They moved underground.
For ten minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Dante finally said:
“I should have told you.”
“About the forty-eight million?”
“Yes.”
“You think that would have changed anything?”
“Yes.”
Beatrice stopped.
“Why?”
“Because everyone close to me eventually gets hurt.”
She looked at him.
“Maybe because you push everyone away.”
He said nothing.
She continued.
“You called me your queen.”
“That was strategy.”
“And now?”
His eyes met hers.
“Now I don't know.”
The tunnel lights flickered.
A phone rang somewhere ahead.
Alexander appeared.
He held up a hand.
“Don't move.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“What happened?”
“Charles escaped.”
Dante swore.
“How?”
“Someone inside the police department released him.”
“Black Crown.”
Alexander nodded.
“Exactly.”
He handed Beatrice a flash drive.
“This contains the names.”
“What names?”
“Black Crown.”
She took it.
“Why give this to me?”
“Because if I die, you're the only one who can open the third trust.”
“How?”
“You need three keys.”
“What keys?”
“Blood.”
“Law.”
“Money.”
He looked at Dante.
“And you have the third.”
Dante frowned.
“What?”
Alexander smiled.
“Your father stole it.”
Dante's face changed.
“What did he steal?”
“The Crown.”
He walked away.
Beatrice followed.
“What is the Crown?”
“Not jewelry.”
Dante answered.
“An account.”
“How much?”
“Enough to collapse every company in Manhattan.”
Beatrice stared.
“Why doesn't Black Crown take it?”
“Because no one knows where it is.”
“Except you.”
Dante shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Alexander turned.
“You do.”
He pulled out a photograph.
A young Dante stood beside his father.
Behind them was a restaurant.
Beatrice recognized it.
“Moretti's.”
Alexander nodded.
“Your father hid the Crown in that building.”
Dante stared at the photograph.
“That restaurant burned down.”
“Exactly.”
Beatrice looked between them.
“So the account is hidden in the ruins.”
Alexander smiled.
“Not the account.”
“The key.”
He looked at Beatrice.
“Your father hid the key in a place only you can enter.”
“Where?”
Alexander pointed at her.
“Your childhood home.”
Beatrice's heart sank.
“My mother sold it.”
“No.”
Alexander shook his head.
“Your mother was told it was sold.”
He reached into his coat.
A property deed appeared.
The owner was listed as:
BEATRICE GALLAGHER.
She stared.
“The house was never sold.”
Dante looked at the document.
“Then who owns it?”
Alexander said:
“You.”
A gunshot echoed through the tunnel.
Alexander fell.
Beatrice screamed.
Dante caught him.
Alexander looked at Beatrice.
“Go.”
“I'm not leaving you.”
“You have ten minutes.”
“Until what?”
May you like
He smiled weakly.
“Until the house burns.”
