Chapter 3 - The Ghost Protocol
The headlights pinned them against the brick wall like insects on a display board.
Dominic instantly shoved Nora behind a rusted dumpster.
He drew a heavy semiautomatic pistol from a shoulder holster she hadn't noticed before.
The SUV screeched to a halt, the doors flying open before it completely stopped.
Four men in tactical gear poured out, weapons raised and sweeping the alley.
They didn't look like Rourke's usual street thugs.
They moved with terrifying, synchronized military precision.
"We need to move now," Dominic hissed, grabbing Nora's wrist.
He dragged her toward a fire escape bolted to the adjacent building.
"Climb," he ordered.
Nora didn't argue.
She scrambled up the icy iron rungs, her bare feet screaming in agony.
Dominic covered her retreat, firing three rapid shots to keep the men pinned behind their vehicle.
Bullets sparked against the brickwork inches from Nora's head.
They reached the roof just as the tactical team began to ascend the fire escape.
Dominic locked the heavy metal roof door, though they both knew it wouldn't hold long.
He sprinted across the tar-paper surface, pulling Nora toward the edge.
The gap between their building and the next was at least eight feet wide.
"Jump," Dominic commanded.
Nora stared at the four-story drop into the dark alley below.
"I can't," she gasped.
"You can, or you die here," he replied simply.
The roof door behind them began to buckle under heavy blows.
Dominic grabbed her hand tightly.
"On three."
"One."
"Two."
"Three!"
They ran and launched themselves into the freezing night air.
Nora felt weightless for a terrifying second before slamming hard onto the neighboring roof.
She rolled to absorb the impact, scraping her arms raw.
Dominic landed gracefully beside her and immediately pulled her up.
They ran down the stairwell of the second building, emerging into a bustling late-night bodega on the ground floor.
The startled clerk stared at them, but Dominic tossed a thick wad of cash onto the counter.
"Forget you saw us," Dominic said smoothly.
He led Nora out the back door and into a narrow service street.
A nondescript gray sedan was waiting with the engine running.
Dominic opened the passenger door and shoved her inside.
He got behind the wheel and sped away, melting seamlessly into the Brooklyn traffic.
Nora slumped back against the seat, completely exhausted.
"Who were those men?" she managed to ask.
Dominic's jaw was clenched tight.
"A private military contractor called Blackwood."
"They specialize in making very important people disappear."
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
"Where is the ledger, Nora?"
Nora hesitated, the instinct to protect her only leverage warring with pure exhaustion.
"It's hidden in a safety deposit box at a bank in Manhattan," she finally confessed.
"I memorized the account number, but I need the physical key."
Dominic nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Then we get the key."
He pulled a burner phone from the glove compartment and dialed a number.
"It's me," he said when the line connected.
"Initiate Ghost Protocol."
"Burn everything and go entirely dark."
He hung up and tossed the phone out the window.
Nora watched him carefully.
"You just burned down your entire empire for a ledger," she noted.
Dominic looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"I burned it down for the truth," he corrected.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver key.
He held it up to the dashboard light.
"Is this the key you're looking for?"
Nora's blood ran cold.
It was the key to the safety deposit box.
She had hidden it inside a hollowed-out book in her apartment.
"How did you get that?" she demanded, terror flooding back into her veins.
Dominic didn't answer.
He simply stared at the road ahead, his grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
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"Because, Nora," he finally said.
"I've been looking for you for twelve years."
