Chapter 3 - The Woman in the PhotographFor several seconds, neither of us moved.
The photograph lay between us.
My face stared back from the table.
Taken from across the street.
I was smiling at someone.
I didn't remember who.
I didn't remember the day.
But someone had been watching.
Someone had been collecting pieces of my life.
Dante noticed the fear in my eyes.
“Have you ever seen him?”
“Who?”
“The person who took this.”
“No.”
“Think.”
“I am.”
He watched me carefully.
“Any strange calls?”
“No.”
“Messages?”
“No.”
“Anyone following you?”
I hesitated.
He noticed.
“You hesitated.”
“There was…”
I looked down.
“An old car.”
“What kind?”
“Gray sedan.”
“License plate?”
“I didn't memorize it.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Dante's face became unreadable.
“Where?”
“Outside my apartment.”
His eyes narrowed.
“And you didn't tell anyone?”
“I thought I was being paranoid.”
“You were being watched.”
The certainty in his voice made my hands shake.
Then the lights went out.
Every lamp in the room died.
Darkness swallowed everything.
A gunshot cracked somewhere downstairs.
Dante moved before I could scream.
One arm wrapped around my waist.
His other hand pulled a weapon from beneath his jacket.
“Stay behind me.”
More gunshots.
Men shouted.
Footsteps thundered through the hallway.
I pressed myself against the wall.
“What is happening?”
Dante's voice stayed calm.
“They're here.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the door.
“The people who want you.”
Someone slammed into it.
Dante pushed me behind him.
The lock exploded.
Two men rushed inside.
The first never got three steps.
Dante fired.
The second turned.
One of Dante's men took him down.
Silence.
Smoke.
I stared.
The reality of the world I had stepped into finally hit me.
Dante turned toward me.
“You're shaking.”
“I've never seen…”
“I know.”
He lowered the weapon.
Then something crashed upstairs.
Matteo.
Dante's expression changed instantly.
He ran.
I followed.
We reached the hallway.
A man stood near the boy's bedroom.
Dante raised his gun.
The stranger smiled.
“You're too late.”
Then he ran.
Dante chased him.
I heard footsteps.
A scream.
Then silence.
A moment later, Dante returned carrying Matteo.
The boy was crying.
I rushed toward him.
“Matteo.”
He reached for me.
Dante handed him over.
“He's okay.”
Matteo buried his face against my shoulder.
I held him tightly.
Dante watched us.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A voice spoke.
I couldn't hear the words.
But I saw Dante's face.
The blood drained from it.
“Repeat that.”
A pause.
Then Dante said:
“When?”
Another pause.
“Tonight.”
He ended the call.
I looked at him.
“What happened?”
He stared at Matteo.
Then at me.
“My father's body was found.”
I froze.
“Your father?”
“He died fifteen years ago.”
The room went cold.
Dante looked toward the dark window.
“He was buried twice.”
I didn't understand.
“What does that mean?”
May you like
His voice dropped.
“The coffin was found empty.”
