Chapter 3 - The Enemy Behind the Blackwood Gates
The bullet struck the wall beside Dominic.
Dominic turned and fired once.
Vincent’s weapon fell from his hand. Blood spread across his shoulder as he collapsed against the desk.
The masked attacker dragged Sophie deeper into the narrow passage. She twisted, drove her heel into his shin, and slammed her elbow backward.
His knife cut her throat just enough to burn.
But his grip loosened.
Sophie ran.
The passage was dark, lined with stone, and steeply descending. Behind her, the attacker recovered. His footsteps followed.
She reached an iron door at the bottom and pulled.
Locked.
The man grabbed her hair.
Sophie turned and struck him with the only weapon she had—the heavy metal bracelet the housekeeper had placed on her wrist after changing her clothes.
The edge cut his cheek.
His mask slipped.
She recognized the missing guard.
“Where’s the music box?” he demanded.
“I don’t have it.”
“Michael gave it to you.”
“He didn’t.”
The guard raised his knife.
A gunshot echoed through the passage.
He dropped.
Dominic stood at the top of the stairs holding Lily against one shoulder and a pistol in his free hand. The baby’s ears were covered by noise-protection headphones someone had quickly placed on her.
It was a bizarre sight: the city’s most feared man descending through darkness with a baby secured gently against his chest.
Dominic handed Lily to Sophie.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“So is your traitor.”
His eyes revealed nothing, but his voice lowered.
“Vincent has been beside me for sixteen years.”
“And tonight he tried to kill you.”
“He deliberately missed.”
Sophie stared at him.
“You think that makes him innocent?”
“No. It makes his motive unclear.”
They returned to the office. Vincent remained alive. Dominic’s doctor treated his shoulder while armed guards watched him.
Vincent refused to speak until Sophie entered.
Then he looked at Lily.
“I was trying to stop you from trusting the wrong person.”
Dominic stood motionless.
“You pointed a gun at my head.”
“The shooter in the wall had a clear line toward you. I fired to move you.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because Caldwell has access to our communications.”
Dominic’s anger became cold.
Vincent confessed that General Caldwell had contacted him six months earlier. Caldwell knew about Michael’s evidence and threatened Vincent’s teenage daughter.
Vincent had pretended to cooperate.
He admitted placing the real teddy bear in Dominic’s safe after finding it inside a catering van. The explosive duplicate had already been carried into the nursery by the missing guard.
“Why erase the footage?” Sophie asked.
“To hide the person who helped me recover the real bear.”
“Who?”
“Evelyn.”
Evelyn entered carrying the old wooden music box.
Sophie’s breath caught.
The polished lid bore faded blue flowers painted by her mother.
“Where did you find it?”
“Inside the catering van,” Evelyn said. “The same compartment as Lily’s bear.”
Sophie reached for it, but Dominic stopped her.
“It could be trapped.”
Vincent shook his head.
“They need her to open it.”
The box played their mother’s lullaby only when three hidden wooden panels were pressed in the correct order. Sophie remembered the pattern: moon, bird, star.
She pressed them.
A compartment opened beneath the velvet lining.
Inside was a small black flash drive and a brass key engraved with the number 317.
Michael had hidden the evidence exactly where he said he would.
A telephone rang on Dominic’s desk.
Only three people knew the private number.
Dominic answered.
General Caldwell’s voice filled the speaker.
“Ms. Collins has something that belongs to me.”
Sophie felt sick.
“You murdered my brother.”
Caldwell paused.
“Your brother made an unfortunate choice.”
“He trusted the truth.”
“He trusted a criminal.”
Dominic stepped closer to the phone.
“And yet the criminal kept her alive.”
Caldwell laughed softly.
“Did he? Ask Romano why Michael was on that road.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Sophie noticed.
“What does he mean?”
Dominic said nothing.
Caldwell continued.
“Your brother wasn’t supposed to be part of that convoy. Romano asked him to go.”
Sophie looked at Dominic.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
The word shattered something inside her.
Dominic had asked Michael to retrieve a ledger from a military vehicle. Michael had agreed. The convoy was attacked before he could deliver it.
“You sent him to his death.”
“I asked for his help.”
“And then you hid from me for two years.”
“I was trying to find Caldwell.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
Dominic did not deny it quickly enough.
Sophie took Lily and stepped away.
Caldwell’s voice returned.
“Bring me the drive, Ms. Collins. I’ll give you the complete recording of your brother’s final hour.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Dominic said.
“Midnight tomorrow,” Caldwell continued. “Union Station. Locker 317. Come without Romano, or the recording disappears forever.”
The line disconnected.
Sophie looked at the brass key.
Locker 317.
Dominic reached toward her.
She recoiled.
“I trusted you because Michael told me to.”
“I never lied about the promise.”
“You lied about everything around it.”
“I wanted to protect you from my guilt.”
“No. You wanted to protect yourself from mine.”
Sophie walked toward the door.
Dominic’s guards blocked her.
“Move,” she ordered.
Dominic nodded once, and they obeyed.
He did not try to stop her. But as she passed, he said, “Caldwell will kill you after he gets the drive.”
“Then help me expose him.”
“I will.”
“I don’t want your guards following me.”
“That’s the one thing I can’t promise.”
Sophie looked back.
Dominic stood beneath Michael’s photograph, powerful enough to command a room but helpless to repair what he had broken.
For the first time, she understood him.
He was not protecting her only because of a promise.
He was trying to survive his own regret.
That did not mean she could forgive him.
At midnight the following evening, Sophie entered Union Station carrying the flash drive.
She believed Dominic’s men were outside.
She was wrong.
General Caldwell had already captured them.
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And inside Locker 317, Sophie found no recording.
She found Dominic Romano bound to a chair, blood on his shirt, and a bomb strapped beneath the seat.
