Chapter 2 - The Wrong DoorIvy backed away from the door.
Her hand went to her mouth.
Rocco laughed softly.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
She didn’t answer.
The handle turned again.
Locked.
“Rocco,” another man warned. “We should go.”
“No.”
The voice became colder.
“The boss found out.”
Ivy’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Rocco continued.
“And the boss is angry.”
A pause.
Then a quiet laugh.
“That’s why we have a problem.”
Ivy looked around the kitchen.
Knives.
Pans.
Cleaning chemicals.
Nothing useful.
She reached for her phone.
No signal.
Of course.
The estate basement was built like a bunker.
Rocco struck the door.
Ivy screamed.
“Open it!”
Another hit.
The hinges groaned.
She grabbed the heaviest cast-iron skillet she could carry.
The door burst inward.
Rocco entered first.
His cheek carried a fresh cut.
His men followed.
Rocco smiled.
“I told you I’d come back.”
Ivy raised the skillet.
“Stay away!”
He laughed.
“That thing?”
He moved forward.
Ivy swung.
The skillet connected with his shoulder.
Rocco staggered.
“Damn it!”
One of the men grabbed Ivy from behind.
She kicked.
Bit.
Scratched.
Rocco recovered.
He raised his hand.
Then a voice spoke from the hallway.
“Take your hand off her.”
Every man froze.
Carmine stood at the end of the corridor.
He had no gun in his hand.
He did not need one.
His expression was calm.
Terrifyingly calm.
Rocco released Ivy.
“Boss.”
Carmine walked toward them.
“You misunderstood me.”
Rocco swallowed.
“I was just—”
“I gave you one instruction.”
“Ivy attacked me.”
Carmine stopped two feet away.
“Say that again.”
Rocco hesitated.
“She—”
Carmine looked at Ivy.
Then at the handprint around her throat.
Then back at Rocco.
“You put your hands on her twice.”
Rocco’s face lost color.
“I was drunk.”
“Then you were drunk twice.”
Carmine turned to the other men.
“Leave.”
They disappeared instantly.
Rocco remained.
Carmine looked at Ivy.
“Go upstairs.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t want you to hurt him.”
Rocco looked almost relieved.
Carmine didn’t.
He only said:
“That is not your decision.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I heard you.”
He glanced toward Rocco.
“But mercy from the victim does not erase what the offender did.”
Ivy hesitated.
Then Carmine stepped closer and lowered his voice.
“Go.”
She obeyed.
She climbed the staircase.
But before reaching the first floor, she heard something slam downstairs.
Then Rocco screamed.
Ivy stopped.
A second sound followed.
Metal scraping concrete.
Then silence.
She turned.
Carmine stood at the bottom of the stairs.
His white shirt was still spotless.
His hands were clean.
But his eyes looked nothing like they had ten minutes ago.
“Why are you still here?”
Ivy whispered, “What happened?”
“Nothing you need to see.”
He walked past her.
Then stopped.
“Go to your room.”
She nodded.
But as she turned, she noticed something on the floor behind him.
A small silver key.
Rocco’s key.
Attached to a tag marked:
ARCHIVE B-17
Ivy had spent three years cleaning the DeLuca estate.
She had never heard of Archive B-17.
And she suddenly understood something worse.
May you like
Rocco had not come back for revenge.
He had come back because he was afraid Ivy would tell Carmine what he had been hiding.
