Chapter 9 - When the Lights Went Out
The first shot struck the ceiling.
Plaster rained down.
People shouted.
Someone overturned the table.
Vincent grabbed Amelia and pulled her behind a marble column.
Her back hit the wall.
“Stay down.”
Normally she would have objected.
A second gunshot removed the argument.
“Who fired?” she whispered.
“No idea.”
Emergency lights flickered red along the walls.
Shapes moved.
Men shouted names.
Salvatore vanished from his chair.
Vincent swore.
“Marco!”
“Here!”
“Amelia stays with you.”
“No.”
Vincent looked at her.
She lowered her voice.
“I’m not arguing about protection. I’m saying Derek has the recording.”
Vincent turned.
Derek had fallen behind the overturned table.
Nikki crawled toward him.
The phone lay several feet away.
A man in a dark suit moved toward it.
Not to help Derek.
To take the phone.
Amelia recognized him from the meeting.
One of Salvatore’s supporters.
She pointed.
“There.”
Vincent saw.
The man reached the phone.
Amelia grabbed a glass water pitcher from the floor and threw it.
It struck his shoulder.
Not hard enough to injure him.
Enough to make him turn.
Vincent crossed the distance instantly.
One hard movement.
The man went down.
Marco retrieved the phone.
“Got it.”
Derek groaned.
Nikki pressed a napkin against his shoulder.
“He’s hit.”
“Ambulance,” Vincent ordered.
A captain shouted from the darkness.
“Salvatore’s gone.”
Of course.
The lights returned thirty seconds later.
One man wounded.
Derek grazed.
No deaths.
Salvatore missing.
Raymond unreachable.
The meeting was over.
But the war had become visible.
Police arrived.
Vincent surprised Amelia by staying.
No escape.
No back entrance.
He gave a statement through counsel.
The security footage showed the shooter had been one of Salvatore’s men.
More importantly, Derek’s recording survived.
Evelyn made three copies before anyone could breathe comfortably.
The audio was imperfect but clear.
Raymond Fletcher’s voice:
Salvatore paid for Anthony. I handled the car and the officer afterward. Gabriel was different. That was your uncle’s personal mess.
Derek:
Why tell me?
Raymond:
Because if Vincent finds the drive, we’re all dead anyway.
Amelia listened only once.
Vincent listened three times.
His face remained expressionless.
Afterward, they stood outside beneath cold rain.
“You okay?” Amelia asked.
“No.”
She appreciated the answer.
“You?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
“Progress.”
She wrapped her coat tighter.
“You heard what I said in there.”
“About Raymond?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“That he broke your ribs.”
“Twice.”
His jaw flexed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking several felonies.”
“That obvious?”
“Yes.”
They walked toward the car.
“Why did you stay with him?”
The question came gently.
Amelia stopped.
Vincent immediately said, “You don’t have to answer.”
“No.”
She looked at the wet sidewalk.
“I want to.”
They stood beneath an awning.
“At first, he wasn’t like that.”
Vincent waited.
“He remembered everything. My coffee order. My mother’s surgery. The name of a professor I hated in college. He made me feel…”
She searched for the word.
“Seen.”
Vincent’s face softened.
“Then he started deciding who I could see.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Funny how close those words are.”
Seen.
See.
Control disguised as attention.
“The first time he grabbed me, he cried afterward.”
“The first time he hit you?”
“He bought a ring.”
Vincent looked away.
Amelia continued.
“Every terrible thing came with something gentle afterward. That’s why it took so long.”
“Did nobody know?”
“My mother was dead. My father left when I was twelve. Friends stopped calling because Raymond made every visit uncomfortable.”
She looked at Vincent.
“And I was ashamed.”
“You had nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know that now.”
“Good.”
“But knowing something and feeling it are different.”
Vincent nodded.
“I understand.”
She studied him.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
His eyes went toward the street.
“Gabriel.”
Amelia waited.
“My brother used drugs for years.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
“But?”
“I covered for him.”
Vincent swallowed.
“Paid people. Threatened people. Fixed problems. Every time he nearly destroyed himself, I called it protecting him.”
Amelia understood before he finished.
“You made it easier for him to keep going.”
“Yes.”
“And when he died…”
“I blamed myself.”
“Do you still?”
He did not answer.
Amelia stepped closer.
“You told me fear doesn’t excuse controlling someone.”
“Yes.”
“The same rule applies backward.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You were wrong.”
She continued.
“But Gabriel made choices too.”
His expression tightened.
“He was my little brother.”
“And I was Raymond’s fiancée.”
Vincent understood.
Love did not make people responsible for another adult’s cruelty.
The lesson worked both ways.
A car approached.
Marco stepped out.
“We need to move.”
“Why?” Vincent asked.
Marco held up a phone.
“Salvatore’s men hit three Castellano businesses in the last hour.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“He’s forcing sides.”
“Yes.”
“Any casualties?”
“Two wounded.”
Amelia knew what came next.
Vincent would disappear into his world.
Men.
Retaliation.
Orders.
Blood.
She surprised herself by touching his sleeve.
He looked at her.
“Don’t become him.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Salvatore?”
“Any of them.”
“What would you have me do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s helpful.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Rain hammered the awning.
Amelia looked at him.
“You have evidence.”
“And Salvatore has soldiers.”
“You have federal investigators already digging.”
“And men can die tonight.”
“Then protect them.”
“I intend to.”
“Protecting them and retaliating are not the same.”
Vincent stared at her.
She could see the war inside him.
The world that raised him had only one answer to attacks.
Answer harder.
Make the next man afraid.
His father had tried to change that.
And died.
Vincent finally looked toward Marco.
“No retaliation.”
Marco blinked.
“What?”
“Secure businesses. Send everyone home who can go. Close the clubs.”
“Vincent—”
“No one shoots unless protecting a life.”
Marco stared for two seconds.
Then nodded.
“Yes, boss.”
Amelia exhaled.
Vincent looked at her.
“Happy?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore is still out there.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Vincent answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a video arrived.
A woman tied to a chair.
Angela.
Amelia stopped breathing.
The camera shifted.
Raymond appeared behind her.
“Bring the original drive,” he said.
“Midnight. Pier Forty-Seven.”
He smiled into the camera.
“And Amelia comes alone.”
The video ended.
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
Amelia closed her eyes.
“Don’t start.”
“You are not going.”
“She’s there because of me.”
“She’s there because Raymond kidnapped her.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants the drive.”
“He wants both.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Amelia, this is not a debate.”
Her eyes opened.
“That sounded dangerously familiar.”
He stopped.
She held his gaze.
Then Vincent corrected himself.
“This is me asking you not to walk into a kidnapping.”
“Better.”
“Answer remains?”
“No.”
His frustration showed.
Amelia took the phone.
“I’m going.”
“Then I’m going too.”
“He said alone.”
Vincent’s face became cold.
“Raymond has lied about everything for six years.”
May you like
He picked up his coat.
“I’m comfortable disappointing him.”
