Chapter 9 - The Bullet’s Second VictimThe smoke was not poisonous.
Vincent realized that after the first thirty seconds.
It was dense, irritating, and designed to create panic.
Dominic wanted them alive.
That made the situation worse.
Marco fired at the rear door lock. The bullet ricocheted off the reinforced panel.
“Don’t waste ammunition,” Vincent said.
Marco glared at him.
“You have a better idea?”
Vincent looked at the ceiling.
The emergency hatch was manual, but the cabin had been sealed electronically. The lock panel sat above Tessa’s head.
“Break the panel.”
“With what?”
Tessa removed her metal hairpin.
“Use this.”
Marco stared at her.
“Your hairpin?”
“It’s steel.”
“It’s a hairpin.”
“It was expensive.”
Maya grabbed it and climbed onto the seat.
The cabin filled with smoke.
Tessa supported her.
“Push into the corner.”
Maya wedged the pin beneath the panel.
“Now what?”
“Twist.”
The panel popped loose.
Behind it were six wires.
Vincent remembered the van’s security system.
“Cut the blue wire.”
Marco looked at him.
“There are three blue wires.”
“The thickest.”
Marco pulled a knife from his boot.
“Which one?”
Vincent studied the wiring.
“Second from the left.”
Marco cut it.
The locks released.
The rear doors opened.
Smoke poured into the rain.
Everyone stumbled out.
Dominic’s men raised their guns.
But before they could fire, a black sedan crashed through the police barricade.
It struck two vehicles and spun across the road.
A woman jumped from the driver’s seat.
Evelyn.
She fired at Dominic’s men with terrifying precision.
Marco returned fire.
Tessa pulled Lauren and Maya behind the armored vehicle.
Vincent remained trapped beside the open doors.
A bullet struck the metal frame inches from his face.
He reached for the interior handle and dragged himself forward.
His chair had been left inside.
He could not reach it.
For the first time in six months, Vincent understood the true meaning of helplessness.
He was on the ground.
His legs were useless.
His arms were too weak to carry him through the open road.
And everyone he loved was being shot at around him.
“Vincent!”
Tessa ran back.
“Leave me,” he shouted.
She ignored him.
She slid one arm beneath his shoulders.
“We’re moving.”
“I can’t—”
“I know.”
Another bullet struck the pavement.
Tessa pulled him behind the vehicle.
His body dragged across the wet asphalt.
A sharp pain tore through his hip, but he barely noticed.
They reached cover.
Tessa crouched over him.
“Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
She looked at his shirt.
Blood had spread across the fabric near his waist.
Vincent looked down.
The bullet had entered his side.
Tessa’s face changed.
“You’re shot.”
“It’s a graze.”
“It’s not.”
“I can still talk.”
“That isn’t the standard.”
Maya crawled toward them.
“Your wound is below the ribs.”
“Can you help?”
“I have basic training.”
“Then help.”
Maya pressed a cloth against the wound.
Vincent clenched his teeth.
Across the road, Evelyn and Marco had driven Dominic’s men back.
Dominic himself had disappeared.
A police officer lay unconscious beside the barricade.
The remaining officers had fled.
Lauren crawled toward Vincent.
“Is he hurt?”
Tessa kept pressure on the wound.
“He’s bleeding.”
Lauren reached for him.
Vincent caught her hand.
“Stay with Maya.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re carrying our child.”
“So are you, apparently.”
Despite the danger, the words almost made him smile.
A second vehicle screeched to a stop.
Marco ran toward them.
“Get inside the sedan.”
“Vincent is shot,” Tessa said.
“I see that.”
“Then stop talking and help me.”
Marco lifted Vincent with one arm while Tessa supported his shoulders.
Vincent hated the sensation of being carried. It made him feel like an object again.
But he had learned something during rehabilitation.
Being helpless for a moment did not mean being helpless forever.
They loaded him into the sedan.
Evelyn drove.
Marco sat beside her with a weapon aimed through the rear window.
Tessa pressed the cloth against Vincent’s wound.
“Stay awake,” she ordered.
“I’m awake.”
“Say your name.”
“Vincent Corvino.”
“Where are you?”
“Being kidnapped by a woman who should be in jail.”
Evelyn glanced at him in the mirror.
“Your humor is unpleasant.”
“It keeps me alive.”
“Then keep using it.”
Lauren sat beside him, one hand on his shoulder.
Her face was pale.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“I’ve disappointed people before.”
She leaned closer.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Her fingers tightened around his.
“I don’t want to marry you because I’m afraid.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to stay because you’re the father of my child.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to stay because of the empire.”
“I know.”
“What do I do?”
Vincent watched her eyes.
“Choose.”
She began to cry.
Not the controlled tears she had shed in the clinic.
These were frightened and exhausted and real.
“I choose you,” she whispered.
Vincent looked away.
Not because he did not feel anything.
Because he felt too much.
Tessa noticed.
She did not interrupt.
Evelyn drove them to a townhouse in Lincoln Park.
The building belonged to an old Corvino attorney who had died years earlier. It had no cameras, no electronic locks, and no connection to the family’s current network.
Inside, Dr. Ward removed the bullet fragment from Vincent’s side.
“It passed through,” she said. “You’re lucky.”
“I’m becoming tired of that word.”
“You should be.”
Tessa helped Lauren rest in the upstairs bedroom.
Maya sat in the kitchen with the flash drive.
Vincent remained in the living room.
Evelyn stood near the fireplace.
“You need to hear the rest of the recording,” she said.
“I already heard enough.”
“No. Your father named the person who could activate the trust.”
“Tessa.”
“Not only Tessa.”
Vincent looked at her.
Evelyn removed a second cassette from her coat.
“Your father recorded the names of the original beneficiaries.”
She inserted the tape into an old machine.
The voice began.
“The trust belongs to my son Vincent and to the descendants of Nathaniel Morgan.”
Tessa appeared at the doorway.
Her face was pale.
“My mother’s family?”
“Your grandfather,” Evelyn said, “was one of the original founders of the Harbor Compact. He left after discovering that the Board intended to use medical research to control people.”
Tessa stared at the machine.
“My family owned part of this?”
“Your family owned the key.”
The recording continued.
“If the Corvino line is threatened, the Morgan heir must stand beside the child. The trust cannot be activated by blood alone. It requires a Corvino and a Morgan.”
Vincent looked at Tessa.
“Why you?”
“Because I’m the last Morgan.”
“How do you know?”
Evelyn pointed toward the flash drive.
“Your mother’s name is there.”
Tessa picked up the laptop.
A scanned identity record appeared.
ELENA MORGAN. LOCATION: ST. AGNES PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY.
Tessa’s hands shook.
“She’s alive.”
“She may be the only person who knows where the final page is,” Evelyn said.
Vincent looked toward the upstairs room where Lauren rested.
Then toward Tessa.
“Tomorrow’s wedding is a trap.”
“So is St. Agnes,” Evelyn replied.
“Which comes first?”
A phone rang from the hallway.
No one moved.
It rang again.
Vincent looked at Marco.
Marco answered.
A man whispered through the line.
“The boy is at the mansion.”
Vincent grabbed the phone.
“Who is this?”
“Someone who wants to help.”
“Put Noah on.”
A child’s voice came through.
“Are you my father?”
Vincent could not breathe.
“Yes.”
The boy was silent.
Then he asked, “Are you coming?”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“I’m coming.”
The line went dead.
Marco looked at him.
“That could be a trap.”
“It is.”
“Then we don’t go.”
Vincent turned toward the stairs.
“We go to the wedding.”
Tessa stepped forward.
“You can’t even stand.”
Vincent looked down at his chair.
“Then I’ll arrive sitting.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Then they’ll see me bleed.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What are you planning?”
Vincent looked at the dark windows.
“Silas wants a public ceremony.”
May you like
His voice became steady.
“Let’s give him one.”
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