Chapter 10 - The Guard Who Served a GhostGabriel had the kind of face people trusted.
Older. Calm. Silver hair. Tired eyes. He looked like someone’s uncle, someone’s protector, someone who would carry groceries upstairs for a neighbor.
He had been standing beside Dominic for years.
And now he was pointing a gun at me in my mother’s hospital room.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
I almost laughed.
After everything that had happened tonight, screaming felt embarrassingly small.
“You work for Carlo Russo,” I said.
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“So Sofia was right.”
“Miss Sofia has been wrong about many things.”
“But not that.”
He gestured toward the compact. “Give it to me.”
I held it tighter.
“Why? What’s inside?”
His eyes moved toward the door.
He was nervous.
That gave me courage.
“You don’t know,” I said. “You were sent to retrieve it, but you don’t know what it is.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
His jaw hardened. “Your father was this stubborn too.”
“Good.”
For the first time, irritation broke through his calm.
He stepped forward.
I threw the bedpan at his face.
It was not elegant. It was not heroic. It was the only weapon within reach.
Gabriel cursed and fired.
The shot hit the wall as I dove behind the bed. Footsteps thundered in the hall. I crawled toward the door, compact clutched in one hand, heart trying to break through my ribs.
Gabriel grabbed my ankle.
I kicked backward and connected with his knee.
He grunted.
Then Dominic appeared in the doorway.
His face when he saw Gabriel on the floor was worse than rage.
It was betrayal made flesh.
Gabriel slowly raised his hands.
Dominic pointed his gun at the man who had probably taught him how to hold one.
“Tell me it isn’t true.”
Gabriel’s eyes were sad.
“I served your father before I served you.”
“My father is dead.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Carlo Russo does not die until he chooses to.”
The room went silent.
Dominic’s grip tightened.
“Where is he?”
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“Closer than you think.”
Sofia arrived behind Dominic, breathless.
When she saw Gabriel, something old and wounded crossed her face.
“You watched them take me,” she said.
Gabriel did not deny it.
“I followed orders.”
Dominic stepped closer. “You let me bury my sister.”
“I let you inherit your father’s war.”
“Where is Carlo?”
Gabriel’s eyes shifted to me.
Dominic noticed.
“No,” Dominic said softly.
Gabriel smiled again.
Then his gaze dropped to the compact in my hand.
“Ask the girl what her father hid in the mirror.”
I opened it.
The mirror looked normal, except for a hairline crack along the edge. I pressed it. The glass lifted.
Inside was a thin transparent sheet marked with tiny numbers.
A cipher overlay.
My father had loved overlays. One meaningless text placed over another meaningless text, until both confessed.
The overlay matched the journal.
My breath caught.
“With this,” I whispered, “I can read all of it.”
Dominic turned back to Gabriel.
But Gabriel was no longer looking at him.
He was looking past him.
Toward the hallway.
The elevator dinged.
Every armed man in the corridor turned.
A hospital orderly stepped out, pushing an empty wheelchair.
He was old, broad-shouldered, and dressed in gray.
His hair was white now.
His face was lined.
But I knew him before my mind accepted it.
Because children know the shape of the people who loved them first.
The orderly looked at me.
His eyes filled with tears.
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“Hello, little star,” my father said.
Then Gabriel pulled a second gun from his ankle.
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