Chapter 8 - The Woman Behind the GlassThe underground corridor beneath Black Orchard was cleaner than Maisie expected.
That made it worse.
She had imagined darkness, cages, rusted chains, the obvious ugliness of evil. Instead, the walls were white. The floors were polished concrete. The lights were soft and expensive. Air vents hummed overhead. Somewhere far away, classical music played.
It felt like a hospital pretending not to be a prison.
Cyrus shook beside her.
Every few steps, he stopped and sniffed a door seam or wall panel. Maisie let him. Julian’s men moved around them in formation, guns ready, boots silent.
Finn stayed so close to Maisie their shoulders touched.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
That made her feel less alone.
They passed the first row of kennels.
Maisie heard the dogs before she felt the air change. Low breathing. Paws shifting. A soft yelp swallowed quickly, as if the animal had learned noise brought punishment.
Cyrus whined.
Maisie turned toward Julian. “We can’t leave them.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “We won’t.”
Mace signaled two men to begin opening cages.
The dogs did not rush out.
That was the heartbreaking part.
They waited.
Even when the doors opened, they waited for permission from people who had never deserved obedience.
Maisie knelt near the closest kennel.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “No one is going to make you fight.”
A small brown dog limped forward and sniffed her sleeve.
Cyrus did not growl.
He stood beside her like a guard made of scars.
They moved deeper.
At the end of the corridor was a glass wall.
Behind it sat a woman in a white room.
Julian stopped.
Maisie heard his breath leave him.
“Elena.”
The woman behind the glass lifted her head.
Her hair was shorter than in the photograph. Silver threaded through the dark. Her face was thinner. One cheek bore a scar that pulled slightly when she moved. But when she saw Julian, her expression broke open.
She stood too quickly and stumbled.
Julian crossed the corridor and pressed one hand against the glass.
Elena mirrored him from the other side.
For a moment, the mafia boss vanished.
Only a brother remained.
Maisie stood frozen several feet away.
She did not know how to move toward a mother she had mourned for five years.
Elena’s eyes shifted.
She saw the girl.
Her mouth trembled.
“Maisie,” she said.
The sound did not come through speakers.
It came through a small opening near the base of the glass.
Maisie’s knees weakened.
Finn caught her.
Elena covered her mouth with both hands.
“My baby.”
Maisie shook her head, tears spilling before she could stop them. “My mom is dead.”
Elena flinched as if struck.
Julian turned sharply. “What did they do?”
Elena’s gaze remained on Maisie. “They told me you died.”
Maisie could not breathe.
“They showed me hospital records,” Elena whispered. “A death certificate. A grave photo. They said Nora Doyle and her daughter were gone.”
Finn stepped forward. “She was Nora Doyle.”
Elena nodded, crying now. “I was. I had to be.”
Maisie’s voice broke. “Why didn’t you come back?”
Elena pressed both hands to the glass. “Because I thought you were safe until the fever. Then I thought you were buried. I would have torn the world apart for you.”
The hallway trembled.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Even Julian’s men looked away.
Cyrus approached the glass slowly.
Elena saw him.
A sob escaped her.
“Cyrus.”
The dog whined, low and broken, and pressed his scarred muzzle against the glass.
Elena lowered herself to the floor on the other side. “You found her. Good boy. You found my girl.”
Maisie sank down too, one hand on Cyrus, one hand pressed toward the glass.
“Why do they want me?” she asked.
Elena’s face changed.
Fear returned.
Before she could answer, the distorted voice filled the corridor again.
“Because, little Maisie, you are proof.”
Lights flashed red.
Metal doors slammed at both ends of the hall.
Julian turned, gun raised.
Gas began hissing from vents overhead.
Finn grabbed Maisie.
Cyrus barked violently.
Elena shouted through the glass, “Julian, listen to me! The door code is not numbers!”
Julian looked at the keypad near her cell.
Elena screamed, “It’s the lullaby!”
Maisie understood first.
Four notes.
Slow.
Steady.
She reached for the keypad, feeling raised symbols instead of numbers.
The gas thickened.
Finn coughed.
Julian shouted, “Maisie!”
She hummed the first note and pressed one key.
Cyrus barked once.
She found the second.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
The lock clicked.
Elena’s door opened.
She ran into the corridor and pulled Maisie into her arms.
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For one impossible second, mother and daughter held each other inside the heart of a nightmare.
Then the far wall exploded.
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