Chapter 5 - My Brother at the Gate
Victor Hale entered with blood on his shirt.
Titan did not attack him.
That answered one question immediately.
Victor had never been Titan’s victim.
Dante lowered his gun only slightly.
“You’re dead.”
Victor gave a tired smile.
“I’ve had better months.”
He explained that the corpse buried under his name belonged to a Northstar operative.
Victor had discovered the murder attempt minutes before it happened.
Titan attacked the assassin.
Victor was injured in the struggle.
Nonna helped him disappear.
She had hidden that too.
Dante looked ready to explode.
Nonna simply said, “You were surrounded by traitors.”
Victor pointed toward the ledger.
“Alessandro didn’t order Daniel Whittaker’s death.”
“The signature is there,” Marcus said.
“Forged.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Alessandro hired me to prove it.”
Victor opened his coat and removed a flash drive.
The original authorization existed.
Same order.
Different signature.
Daniel Whittaker himself.
My father had authorized his own “termination.”
It was an extraction code.
He had planned to disappear.
He had been working with Northstar.
Then he discovered Northstar was not simply laundering money.
It was selling information.
Witness locations.
Police identities.
Children of enemies.
Anyone valuable enough to trade.
Daniel tried to escape.
Alessandro helped him.
But someone intercepted the plan.
Daniel died for real.
My mother spent the rest of her life collecting evidence.
Marcus sat down hard.
“So Dad wasn’t innocent.”
“No,” Victor said. “But he tried to stop it.”
“Who killed him?”
Victor looked toward Dante.
“That’s the question that got me stabbed.”
He had traced the order to a terminal inside the Castellano mansion.
Upper floor.
Private access.
Only five people had clearance at the time.
Alessandro.
Dante.
Nonna.
Gabriel.
And Dante’s uncle, Stefano Castellano.
Stefano lived in Switzerland.
Or supposedly did.
Dante called him.
Disconnected number.
Victor continued.
“The person running Northstar is still here.”
“Gabriel?” I asked.
Victor shook his head.
“Gabriel was investigating it too.”
Dante’s expression changed.
The payments to Gabriel.
Not bribes.
Funds for undercover work.
Titan’s fear response around him had come from Gabriel participating in controlled attack training.
Every apparent answer kept turning into another door.
Then Marcus’s phone buzzed.
A photograph.
Our duplex.
Taken minutes earlier.
Biscuit visible through the window.
Message:
COME HOME ALONE OR THE DOG DIES.
Marcus stood.
“No.”
I grabbed his phone.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“That’s my dog.”
“Exactly why they sent it to you.”
Dante dispatched men.
The duplex was empty.
Biscuit was safe.
The message had been bait.
But for what?
We discovered the answer when security called.
Marcus’s distraction had pulled guards from the estate’s western gate.
A black SUV had entered using an emergency credential.
The driver went straight toward the mansion.
Dante ordered lockdown.
Titan began barking.
A gunshot echoed upstairs.
Then another.
We ran.
Gabriel lay bleeding near the staircase.
Alive.
“Who?” Dante demanded.
Gabriel tried to speak.
Blood filled his mouth.
I pressed my hands against the wound.
“Don’t talk.”
He ignored me.
“Stefano.”
Dante’s face hardened.
His uncle.
Gabriel grabbed Dante’s sleeve.
“Not alone.”
“Who else?”
Gabriel looked past him.
Toward Marcus.
His eyes widened.
“Get the boy out.”
The lights died.
Emergency lamps turned red.
Titan growled.
A voice came through the mansion intercom.
“Marcus Whittaker.”
My brother froze.
The voice continued.
“You’ve spent sixteen years wondering why you never looked like your father.”
Marcus looked at me.
I felt sick.
“Don’t listen.”
The speaker crackled.
“Ask your sister why Evelyn hid the truth.”
“I don’t know the truth!” I shouted.
Laughter.
Then:
“Bring Marcus to the north gate.”
Dante drew his weapon.
“No.”
The voice became colder.
“Then I’ll come inside.”
Titan suddenly turned toward the front entrance.
Someone knocked.
Marcus moved before I could stop him.
He opened the inner security panel.
A woman stood outside.
She held an old photograph against the glass.
In it, my mother was holding a newborn baby.
Beside her stood Alessandro Castellano.
On the back were four words.
MARCUS. OUR SON. FORGIVE ME.
Marcus looked at Dante.
May you like
Then at me.
And the outer gate began opening by itself...
