Chapter 6 - The Only Person He Could Trust
Claire grabbed Dominic's shirt and pulled him down.
The front window shattered.
A bullet tore through the wall.
Dominic looked at the brass pendant hanging from Claire's neck.
It had been split cleanly down the middle.
Claire suddenly realized it had stopped the fragment meant for his heart.
"Kitchen," Dominic ordered.
Everyone moved.
Dominic overturned the table.
Frank pulled Margaret behind a cabinet.
Claire crouched beside Dominic.
"You were hit."
"Not badly."
Blood ran along his ribs.
Claire saw it.
"That's your definition?"
"Later."
Another shot shattered glass.
Dominic checked the rear door.
"Basement."
Frank shook his head.
"They'll cover it."
"Then what's your plan?"
Frank looked at Claire.
"The old coal tunnel."
Margaret stared.
"You told me that was sealed."
"I lied."
Claire almost laughed despite everything.
"Apparently that's the family tradition."
They moved through the basement.
Dominic stayed behind Claire.
Not because he needed protection.
Because he refused to let anything reach her first.
The tunnel opened behind an old furnace.
Narrow brick.
Cold air.
They crawled fifty feet before reaching a rusted hatch beneath the neighboring garage.
Dominic pushed it open.
Clear.
Five minutes later, they were inside Frank's car, racing away while sirens approached Margaret's street.
Claire pressed a towel against Dominic's side.
"Hold still."
"I'm driving."
"Frank is driving."
Dominic looked forward.
He had forgotten.
Frank glanced in the mirror.
"Marriage suits you."
"Keep talking and you'll walk."
Claire pushed harder on the wound.
Dominic winced.
"Good."
"What?"
"Means you're not made of stone."
"Debatable."
Margaret sat silently beside Frank.
No one knew what to say to her.
Claire knew less.
Her mother had lied for twelve years.
Her father was alive.
Her uncle had helped stage his death.
Her cousin had tried to kill her.
And her husband—the man she had married because another man died asking him to protect her—might have his own name inside the most dangerous ledger in Boston.
They reached Frank's private office in Dorchester.
He locked the doors.
Dominic called Marco again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
"Luca?" Frank asked.
Dominic called another man.
"Find Marco."
He ended the call.
Claire watched him.
"You trust him?"
"The man I called?"
"Yes."
Dominic paused.
"I don't know anymore."
That admission cost him.
Claire could see it.
Dominic Castellano had built his entire life around control.
Control of rooms.
Control of businesses.
Control of people.
Now every layer had failed.
Except one.
Her.
"Let me see the wound."
"I'm fine."
"Dominic."
He sighed.
Removed his torn shirt.
Claire cleaned the graze along his ribs.
The shot had passed close.
Too close.
Her hands shook.
Dominic noticed.
"Claire."
"I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
She glared.
"Not now."
"You said I blink twice."
"You do."
"So do you."
Claire focused on the bandage.
"You could have died."
"So could you."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
She finished wrapping him.
Her hands remained against his side for a moment.
Dominic looked down at her.
Neither moved.
Then Claire stepped away.
"Tell me about Saint Michael."
Dominic sat.
"My father kept leverage."
"I understand that."
"My name may appear because he recorded succession plans."
"Or because you authorized something."
Dominic looked at her.
"You think I did?"
"I think you haven't told me everything."
Frank leaned against the desk.
"She's good."
Dominic ignored him.
Claire continued.
"You promised no locked doors."
"I promised almost no locked doors."
"And I said no."
"You married me anyway."
"Because I trusted Elias."
"Do you trust me?"
The question landed hard.
Dominic's eyes held hers.
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
He looked away.
"My father died four years ago."
"I know."
"Six months before that, he asked me to authorize a transfer."
"How much?"
"Twenty million."
Frank whistled.
Claire's face stayed serious.
"To where?"
"I didn't know."
"You signed it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Dominic laughed bitterly.
"Because he was dying."
Claire went still.
The parallel was obvious.
Elias.
A dying man's request.
Dominic's weakness was not loyalty.
It was refusing dying people.
"What happened to the money?" she asked.
"I never checked."
"Dominic."
"I trusted him."
Frank said, "That was your first mistake."
Dominic turned.
"You have made twelve years of mistakes. Sit down."
Frank sat.
Claire looked at Dominic.
"What if the twenty million funded the network?"
"It probably did."
"What if Luca still controls it?"
"Possible."
"What if Elias discovered that?"
Dominic's expression changed.
"And that's why he died early."
Claire nodded.
The room fell silent.
Margaret finally spoke.
"Thomas would know."
Claire looked at her.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"You spoke to him."
"Rarely."
"Mom."
Margaret's shoulders fell.
"There is a church in Cambridge."
Dominic frowned.
"Which?"
"Saint Michael's."
Everyone stared.
Frank cursed.
Claire grabbed her coat.
"Of course."
Dominic stood.
"No."
She turned.
"No?"
"It's too obvious."
"That's why everyone missed it."
"Claire."
"Dominic, my father chose a church with the same name as the ledger."
"Which may be a trap."
"Then come with me."
He stared.
She stared back.
Frank smiled.
Dominic pointed at him.
"Stop enjoying this."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking loudly."
Twenty minutes later, Dominic and Claire entered Saint Michael's through a side door.
No guards.
No Frank.
No Margaret.
Only them.
The sanctuary was empty.
Claire walked toward the candles.
"Cricket."
She stopped.
A man stepped from behind a column.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Silver watch.
Her father.
Claire could not move.
Thomas Bell looked at her as though every missing year had arrived at once.
"My God."
Claire's eyes filled.
"You don't get to say that."
"I know."
"You don't get to cry."
"I know."
"You don't get to call me Cricket."
Thomas nodded.
"I know."
Dominic stayed several feet back.
This was not his moment.
Claire walked toward her father.
Then slapped him.
The sound echoed through the church.
Thomas accepted it.
She slapped him again.
Then she collapsed against him.
He held her.
Claire sobbed with a violence Dominic had never seen from her.
Twelve years.
All of it.
When she finally pulled away, Thomas looked at Dominic.
"You married her."
Dominic nodded.
"Because Elias asked."
"At first."
Claire looked at him.
Dominic hadn't meant to say the last two words.
Thomas noticed too.
But he didn't comment.
Instead he pulled a small flash drive from his pocket.
"This is Saint Michael."
Dominic frowned.
"The original?"
"A copy."
"Complete?"
"Yes."
Claire stared.
"Why didn't Elias have it?"
"He had part."
Thomas looked at Dominic.
"The complete ledger implicates people still inside your organization."
"Luca?"
"Yes."
"Marco?"
"No."
Dominic exhaled.
"And me?"
Thomas hesitated.
Claire saw it.
"What does it say about Dominic?"
Thomas looked at his daughter.
"He signed the transfer."
"We know."
"Do you know where it went?"
Dominic stepped closer.
"Tell me."
Thomas handed Claire the drive.
"Not to Luca."
Dominic frowned.
"Then who?"
Thomas's eyes stayed on him.
"Your mother."
Dominic froze.
"My mother died when I was fourteen."
"No."
The word echoed.
Claire felt Dominic's entire body change.
Thomas continued.
"Your father told you she died."
Dominic's face went blank.
"Stop."
"She left him."
"Stop."
"She took evidence."
Dominic grabbed Thomas by the coat.
Claire moved between them.
"Dominic."
His breathing was rough.
Thomas didn't resist.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I know she was alive four years ago."
Dominic released him.
Claire touched his arm.
He flinched.
Not from her.
From the truth.
Thomas opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, the church door opened.
Marco DeLuca stumbled inside.
Blood covered one side of his face.
Dominic turned.
"Marco."
Marco locked the door behind him.
"Luca has the house."
"What?"
"Your estate. Your men. Everything."
Dominic stared.
Marco looked at Claire.
"He knows she has Saint Michael."
Claire gripped the flash drive.
"How?"
Marco swallowed.
"Because someone in this church told him."
Everyone stopped.
Dominic looked at Thomas.
Thomas looked at Claire.
Claire looked toward the dark confessionals.
A soft click came from inside one.
Then a familiar woman's voice whispered from behind the wooden screen.
"Don't move."
Dominic's face turned white.
He knew that voice.
May you like
He had not heard it since he was fourteen.
"Mom?"
