Chapter 4 - The File They Buried
Rosie stared at her own name.
Subject Zero.
“No.”
Dante picked up the folder.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Rosie didn't know why she had said it.
Fear, probably.
The irrational belief that if nobody opened the folder, whatever it contained couldn't become real.
Noah stood behind her.
“Rosie?”
She looked at her brother.
Sixteen.
Too young to be inside any of this.
“We're taking you home.”
“I am home.”
“Noah.”
“With you.”
Dante quietly told Adrian to take Noah back to the estate.
Rosie expected an argument.
Noah gave her one.
Eventually, however, he left.
Rosie opened the folder.
The first document was twenty-one years old.
Patient: Rosalind Whittaker.
Age: nine.
Diagnosis: traumatic hearing loss, left ear.
Rosie sat down.
Her childhood accident had always been simple.
Her mother told her she'd fallen from a bicycle.
Head trauma damaged her hearing.
Except the medical record inside the folder didn't mention a bicycle.
It mentioned an explosion.
Rosie read the line three times.
Dante crouched beside her.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Flashes.”
She closed her eyes.
A loud sound.
Heat.
Someone carrying her.
Her mother crying.
That was all.
The next page contained a name.
Attending physician: Dr. Malcolm Voss.
Rosie's hands went cold.
Voss had known her since she was nine.
Another document listed her mother.
Margaret Whittaker.
Occupation: veterinary assistant.
Employer: Harbor Canine Research Foundation.
Rosie looked at Dante.
“The same place?”
“Predecessor organization.”
Rosie kept reading.
Her mother had worked for Voss.
And Elena Castellano had later investigated him.
Dante found a photograph.
Margaret Whittaker stood beside Elena.
Rosie couldn't understand it.
“My mother never mentioned her.”
“When did your mother die?”
“Seven years ago.”
Dante looked at her.
“How?”
“Cancer.”
For once, there was no suspicious accident.
Just grief.
Rosie turned another page.
A handwritten statement appeared.
Margaret's handwriting.
I saw what Malcolm was doing. I copied everything. If they discover what I took, Rosalind and Noah will never be safe.
Rosie's breath caught.
Noah hadn't even been born when the original incident happened.
Her mother had added the note years later.
Dante read over her shoulder.
“What did she take?”
The final page gave them the answer.
MASTER LEDGER REMOVED.
LOCATION UNKNOWN.
Rosie sat silently.
Her mother had possessed evidence.
Evidence Voss had spent decades trying to recover.
Maybe that was why Gregory Vale had entered Rosie's life.
Maybe her firing hadn't started with one neglected dog.
Maybe someone had recognized her surname.
A noise came from the hallway.
Titan appeared.
Adrian followed.
“Noah is safe.”
Dante nodded.
“What about Mercer?”
“Gone.”
“Cameras?”
“Disabled.”
Rosie looked toward the hallway.
“Someone knew exactly where we were.”
Dante agreed.
Which meant Elena had been right.
Someone close to him was involved.
They returned to the estate before dawn.
Rosie couldn't sleep.
She sat on the floor of the guest room Dante had insisted she use.
Titan lay beside her.
She touched the scar behind his ear.
“Subject 417.”
Titan opened one eye.
“I hate that.”
His tail moved once.
“You're Titan.”
Another thump.
Rosie smiled.
“Exactly.”
A knock came.
Dante.
He held two cups.
“Coffee.”
“Bribery?”
“Peace offering.”
“For what?”
“Apparently everything.”
She let him enter.
Dante sat across from her.
Without the entourage and immaculate posture, he looked tired.
Human.
“Elena wanted to become a veterinarian,” he said.
Rosie listened.
“Our father thought it was ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“He thought Castellanos were supposed to run companies.”
“And you?”
“I bought her first clinic.”
Rosie smiled slightly.
“So you were always terrible at obeying your father.”
“I've had practice.”
Titan moved his head onto Rosie's thigh.
Dante looked at him.
“He never does that.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because he doesn't.”
Rosie ran her fingers over Titan's fur.
“Maybe nobody asked what he needed.”
Dante looked at her for longer than necessary.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn't nothing.”
“You notice everything.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You're doing laundry.”
“I meant the occupation I actually trained for.”
Dante's expression softened.
“I could help you get your license reinstated.”
Rosie immediately stiffened.
“No.”
“I wasn't offering charity.”
“It sounded remarkably similar.”
“Then I'll stop.”
That surprised her.
Most powerful men Rosie had met believed generosity purchased obedience.
Dante simply accepted the boundary.
“Thank you.”
“For stopping?”
“Yes.”
“Low standard.”
“You'd be amazed.”
A silence passed.
Not uncomfortable.
Dante looked toward Titan.
“My sister trusted people too easily.”
Rosie shook her head.
“Maybe she trusted the right people and underestimated the wrong ones.”
Dante considered that.
“My enemies would say the same thing about me.”
“Do you have many?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I'm charming.”
Rosie laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Dante smiled.
For the first time he didn't look dangerous.
Just lonely.
Then Titan stood.
His ears shifted.
Rosie immediately noticed.
“What?”
The dog walked toward her dresser.
He sniffed.
Scratched once.
Rosie opened the bottom drawer.
Nothing.
Titan scratched again.
She removed the drawer entirely.
Behind it was an envelope.
Someone had placed it there.
Dante's humor vanished.
Rosie pulled it free.
On the front:
ROSIE — FROM MOM.
Her hands trembled.
Inside was a brass key and a note.
If you're reading this, they found you.
Trust the dog.
Not the man who owns him.
Rosie slowly lifted her eyes toward Dante.
At that exact moment, someone knocked on the bedroom door.
Dante turned.
“Who is it?”
A familiar male voice answered from the hallway.
“It's Elias.”
May you like
Titan rose.
And this time, he began to snarl.
