Chapter 2 - The Man Who Buried MeNobody spoke.
I could hear the rain dripping from Rafael DeLuca's coat onto the diner floor.
Bella was still in his arms.
She looked from him to me.
“Papa,” she said, confused, “you know Sarah?”
Rafael did not answer her.
His eyes remained locked on mine.
“Nora.”
I hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in three years.
It felt like hearing a dead relative call from another room.
I forced myself to breathe.
“My name is Sarah.”
He gave a humorless smile.
“You still lie the same way.”
The man by the door moved toward me.
My instincts took over.
I stepped back.
He stepped forward.
Then Rafael lifted one hand.
“Stop.”
The guard froze.
Bella looked at her father.
“Why is everyone acting weird?”
Rafael looked down at her.
“Go with Marco.”
“But I want my pancakes.”
He hesitated.
I almost laughed.
Of course she cared about pancakes.
“Take them with you,” I said.
Marco wrapped the plate in a napkin.
Bella accepted it.
Before leaving, she looked at me.
“I'll come back.”
Something inside me cracked.
Rafael heard it too.
His jaw tightened.
“Take her.”
The guard walked Bella outside.
She kept looking over her shoulder.
The moment the door closed, Rafael turned back to me.
“Where's the ledger?”
I stared at him.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
His expression went flat.
“You vanished the night seventy million dollars disappeared from three accounts.”
“I didn't steal your money.”
“Then why did you run?”
“Because everyone who stayed died.”
That stopped him.
For the first time, something flickered across his face.
Pain.
Then anger swallowed it.
“You were working for me.”
“I was.”
“You knew my security.”
“I did.”
“You knew my routes.”
“Yes.”
“You knew everything.”
“I did.”
“Then tell me why I found your blood in Warehouse Seven and your body was never recovered.”
I said nothing.
He took a step closer.
“You know what I believed?”
I remained silent.
“I believed you betrayed me.”
My chest tightened.
“I believed you sold us out.”
“I didn't.”
“I believed you were dead.”
“So did I.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
I looked away.
“Someone wanted both of us dead.”
The words hung between us.
Rafael stared.
“Who?”
“I never found enough proof.”
His voice turned colder.
“You had three years.”
“I spent those three years trying to stay alive.”
He reached into his coat.
My pulse jumped.
He pulled out a photograph.
He placed it on the counter.
I looked down.
My breath stopped.
Warehouse Seven.
Three years ago.
The picture showed me standing beside Rafael.
I was younger.
My hair was longer.
There was blood running down my arm.
Rafael was holding a gun.
Behind us stood a man whose face had been circled in red.
I recognized him instantly.
Rafael watched me.
“You know who that is.”
My fingers went numb.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“Vincent.”
Rafael's younger brother.
The man who had disappeared three years ago.
The man everyone believed had died with the rest of Rafael's security team.
Rafael leaned closer.
“He is alive.”
My stomach dropped.
“How do you know?”
“Because he called my daughter last night.”
I looked at him.
Bella.
Rafael's expression finally revealed the thing he had been trying to hide.
Fear.
Real fear.
“He said,” Rafael continued, “that if I wanted to see Isabella alive again, I should bring the woman who survived Warehouse Seven.”
My throat tightened.
“You brought her here.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“He found you.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Rafael took another photograph from his pocket.
This one was recent.
It showed me walking home from the diner.
Taken from across the street.
Another showed me unlocking my apartment.
Another showed me entering this diner yesterday.
I stared at them.
Someone had been watching me.
For days.
Maybe weeks.
Rafael spoke quietly.
“Vincent knew you were alive before I did.”
I looked toward the door.
“Where is Bella?”
“Safe.”
“Take me to her.”
“No.”
“She's in danger because of me.”
“She was already in danger.”
He slid the photographs toward me.
Then he said something that turned my blood to ice.
“Vincent didn't ask for money.”
I looked at him.
“He asked for you.”
The diner door suddenly shattered.
Glass exploded across the floor.
One of Rafael's men pulled his gun.
Another dove behind a table.
Three gunshots cracked through the room.
Rafael grabbed me and pulled me behind the counter.
“Stay down!”
Bullets tore through the coffee machine.
Customers screamed.
A bodyguard fired toward the shattered window.
I crouched beside Rafael.
He looked at me.
“You still remember how to survive?”
I stared at the exits.
My breathing slowed.
“Yes.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“How?”
I looked toward the kitchen.
“Because you taught me.”
Rafael's expression changed.
And in that instant, he realized the woman he had once trusted was still in there.
The old Nora.
The one he thought he buried.
I grabbed a metal tray.
“Three shooters.”
“How do you know?”
“Two firing from outside.”
I pointed upward.
“One on the roof.”
Rafael stared.
“You're sure?”
A bullet punched through the ceiling.
I smiled without humor.
“Now I am.”
I kicked open the kitchen door.
“Move.”
Rafael followed.
Behind us, another shot rang out.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked down.
One message.
A picture of Bella.
Sitting alone in the back seat of a car.
Under it were five words.
She was never with your men.
Rafael went pale.
I grabbed his wrist.
“We have six minutes.”
He looked at me.
“How do you know?”
I pointed at the photograph.
The car clock was visible in the corner.
“Because whoever sent that wants us to know she is running out of time.”
May you like
Then Rafael whispered the words that made everything worse.
“That's not Vincent.”
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