Chapter 3 - The House That BurnedDaniel Romano's house had supposedly been destroyed in a fire.
Vincent remembered the night.
He remembered standing outside the police barricade.
He remembered flames climbing through the roof.
He remembered his father telling him Daniel was dead.
He remembered the coffin.
He remembered every lie.
What he did not remember was the house surviving.
Yet there it stood.
Three stories.
Blackened brick.
Windows boarded shut.
Wild vines crawling over the side wall.
The city had forgotten it.
Vincent had not.
He stood across the street with Lily beside him.
Sal waited in the car.
Marco stayed on the other side of the block.
Vincent stared at the building.
“Your mother brought you here?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Why?”
“She said we were going somewhere else.”
“But she came here.”
Lily nodded.
“She cried.”
That sentence bothered Vincent more than anything else.
Elena Carter was not sentimental.
Not according to what he had heard.
She had worked quietly.
Paid rent.
Raised Lily.
Kept her head down.
Then she vanished.
Vincent crossed the street.
The front door had been chained from the outside.
He cut the chain.
Inside, the smell of burned wood still lingered under layers of dust.
The first floor looked untouched by fire.
That made no sense.
He walked deeper.
Lily stayed close.
“Was your uncle Daniel here?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent stopped.
“How do you know my brother?”
“Mom talked about him.”
“What did she say?”
“She said he was kind.”
Vincent's throat tightened.
His family had never used the word kind for Daniel.
They called him smart.
Ruthless.
Useful.
Dangerous.
Not kind.
He looked at Lily.
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said he loved music.”
Vincent glanced toward the dead piano in the corner.
One key was missing.
He remembered that piano.
Daniel used to play badly when they were children.
Their mother used to laugh.
Their father used to yell.
Vincent walked toward it.
The top was covered in dust.
He pressed one key.
A dull sound echoed.
He pressed another.
Nothing.
The third key sank farther than the others.
Vincent crouched.
There was a hidden compartment beneath it.
His pulse quickened.
He opened the panel.
Inside was a small metal box.
No lock.
He pulled it out.
Lily whispered:
“That's Mom's.”
“How do you know?”
“She showed me once.”
Vincent opened the lid.
Inside were three photographs.
A birth certificate.
A set of keys.
And a cassette tape.
Vincent froze at the birth certificate.
Lily Carter.
Mother: Elena Carter.
Father: Daniel Romano.
Vincent stared at the paper.
His brother had a daughter.
A daughter nobody had told him about.
A daughter Lily had never known was his family.
He looked at the eight-year-old standing beside him.
“How old were you when your mother told you about your father?”
“She didn't.”
Vincent's voice lowered.
“Then how do you know?”
Lily pointed to the photograph.
Vincent lifted it.
It showed Daniel holding Lily as a baby.
He was smiling.
Behind him was Elena.
The photo had been taken at this house.
On the back, someone had written:
She is the only reason I am still alive.
Vincent turned the photo over.
There was something else beneath the writing.
A second sentence, almost erased.
If they find out, they will kill all three of us.
Vincent's blood went cold.
“All three?”
Lily nodded.
“Mom always says there are two kinds of secrets.”
“What kinds?”
“The ones you tell.”
“And?”
“The ones that kill people.”
Vincent looked toward the hallway.
Something had moved upstairs.
He raised one finger.
Lily stopped breathing.
A floorboard creaked.
Vincent reached for his weapon.
He moved silently through the hall.
Stairs.
Second floor.
A bedroom door stood open.
Empty.
Bathroom.
Empty.
Third floor.
Empty.
He returned downstairs.
Sal's voice came through his earpiece.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“You need to come outside.”
Vincent stepped through the broken doorway.
Three black SUVs had appeared at the end of the street.
Too many men.
Too organized.
Sal's face had gone pale.
“Romano soldiers?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
He recognized the insignia on the front grille.
A silver wolf.
The symbol of the Vale organization.
The man in the red tie had brought an army.
Lily stepped beside Vincent.
She looked at the vehicles.
Then at him.
“Are they here for me?”
Vincent answered honestly.
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Then I think you should know something.”
“What?”
Lily opened her backpack.
Her small hand disappeared inside.
She pulled out one coin.
A quarter.
On the edge, someone had carved a tiny wolf.
“They've been leaving these in our apartment every Friday.”
Vincent stared at the coin.
“How many?”
“Ninety-one.”
His skin prickled.
“What did you do with the others?”
“I put them in my jar.”
Vincent looked at the empty space where the jar had been.
Then at the wolf coin in her palm.
The money was never just money.
May you like
It was a message.
And someone had been counting every Friday.
Related Stories
