Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the CurtainThe phone call lasted seven seconds.
Seven seconds was all it took to turn the exhausted father holding his son into a different man.
One second he was staring at Luca.
The next, the grief vanished from his face.
Every muscle in his jaw tightened.
“Repeat that.”
The bodyguard swallowed.
“The safe house in Geneva was breached twenty minutes ago.”
The father looked at him.
“How?”
“We don't know.”
“Who knew about it?”
The bodyguard hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
The man holding Luca slowly lifted his gaze toward the cockpit.
Then toward the first-class curtain.
Then toward the passengers behind us.
There were more than three hundred people on the plane.
And somewhere among them, someone might have known exactly where his son would be.
I should have handed Luca back.
Instead, the baby tightened his little fingers around my blouse.
His father noticed.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
I hesitated.
“Emma Carter.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why did you come to first class?”
“Because your son was choking.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“I used to be a nurse.”
“Used to?”
“I quit.”
“Why?”
I looked away.
That was not a story I wanted to tell a stranger.
Especially not one surrounded by armed men.
“My daughter needed me.”
He noticed the wedding ring missing from my hand.
His eyes lingered on the pale line around my finger.
“You're running from someone.”
It wasn't a question.
I said nothing.
He looked at my face.
Then at Luca.
“What did you hear before you came here?”
“The crying.”
“No. Before that.”
I frowned.
“I heard the baby choke.”
He studied me.
“Anything else?”
I shook my head.
One of his bodyguards stepped closer.
“Mr. Moretti, we need to move him.”
The surname landed heavily.
Moretti.
I recognized it.
Not from the news.
From whispers.
My former nursing colleagues used to talk about powerful families who owned half of Europe through legitimate companies nobody could trace back to their origins.
The Moretti family was one of those names.
I looked at Luca's father.
“You're Alessandro Moretti.”
His expression didn't change.
“You know my name.”
“Everyone in Rome knows your name.”
“Most people don't say it aloud.”
I swallowed.
“Then why did you tell me?”
“I didn't.”
A silence followed.
One of the flight attendants hurried toward us.
“Mr. Moretti, the captain has been informed.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Lock the cabin.”
The flight attendant froze.
“Sir?”
“Lock it.”
She looked toward the cockpit.
Alessandro's bodyguard was already moving.
Then the plane jolted.
Everyone stumbled.
Luca began crying.
A few passengers screamed.
The lights flickered once.
Twice.
Then went out.
Emergency lights glowed red across the cabin.
Someone shouted from premium economy.
“What happened?”
Alessandro grabbed Luca.
I stepped back.
His bodyguard immediately positioned himself between us.
Then a sound came from the galley.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The bodyguard drew his weapon.
Alessandro whispered one word.
“Down.”
I dropped.
A second later, something slammed into the first-class door.
Then came another impact.
And another.
Someone was trying to get inside.
Luca began screaming.
Alessandro looked at me.
And I saw something that frightened me more than the gun.
He looked desperate.
“Emma,” he whispered.
“What?”
“If they get through that door…”
He stopped.
“What?”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“Do not let them take my son.”
The door buckled.
Once.
Twice.
Then the metal latch snapped.
And the man behind it stepped into the cabin wearing a flight attendant's uniform.
But he wasn't a flight attendant.
Alessandro knew him.
Because the second he saw his face, he whispered:
“Marco.”
May you like
The man smiled.
And raised a gun.
