Chapter 12 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be DeadCarmine said nothing.
Ivy expected rage.
Instead, he looked devastated.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“The ring.”
Carmine looked at Lucia.
“Did you know?”
Lucia nodded.
“I saw him that night.”
“And you let me believe he died.”
“I thought the lie would keep you alive.”
Carmine stepped back.
“For twenty years.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You were protecting a lie.”
A metallic explosion shook the tunnel.
The gate bent inward.
“They’re here,” Ivy whispered.
Carmine raised his weapon.
Then a voice came from the darkness.
“Carmine.”
The door opened.
Gideon entered.
But he was not armed.
He looked exhausted.
“Don’t shoot.”
Carmine aimed anyway.
“You betrayed me.”
“No.”
“You sold my people.”
“I was infiltrating them.”
Carmine hesitated.
Gideon looked at Ivy.
“They wanted you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the final witness.”
“To what?”
“The Shepherd’s identity.”
Carmine lowered his gun slightly.
“Who is he?”
Gideon swallowed.
“Your father.”
“No.”
“He never died.”
Silence.
Gideon handed Carmine a photograph.
An elderly man stood in front of a private clinic.
Carmine recognized him instantly.
“My father.”
“Alive,” Gideon said.
Lucia whispered:
“He found a way to fake his death.”
Carmine looked at Ivy.
“And he’s been searching for her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when your father died, she saw his face.”
Gideon turned toward Ivy.
“The Shepherd has spent twenty years trying to erase every person who could identify him.”
Ivy’s voice cracked.
“And now?”
“Now he knows you remember.”
The estate above them suddenly fell silent.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Carmine frowned.
“That’s wrong.”
Gideon nodded.
“They’ve stopped.”
“Why?”
Gideon looked at Ivy.
“Because he came himself.”
A slow clap echoed from the tunnel.
One.
Two.
Three.
The sound grew closer.
Then a man stepped into the red emergency light.
Older.
Elegant.
Silver hair.
A black cane.
Carmine stared at him.
The man smiled.
“Hello, son.”
Carmine’s weapon lowered.
May you like
Ivy felt ice move through her veins.
The Shepherd had arrived.
