Chapter 4 - The Safehouse
Nora stared at the silver key glinting in Dominic's hand.
Her mind raced, trying to process the impossibility of his words.
"You've been looking for me?" she repeated, her voice cracking.
"You didn't know who I was in the basement."
"You asked me my name."
Dominic slipped the key back into his pocket, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.
"I didn't know your face," he clarified softly.
"I only knew you were the one who took the ledger from Rourke."
"But I recognized the key when my men searched your apartment."
"It belongs to a specific vault at the First Manhattan Trust."
"A vault my father opened twenty years ago."
Nora felt a chill that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature inside the car.
"Your father?"
"My father died leaving behind a mountain of debts and a single safety deposit box," Dominic explained.
"A box I was never allowed to access."
"Rourke was the executor of the estate."
"He claimed the box was empty."
He finally looked at her.
"But you had the key."
"And you used it to hide the ledger."
The gray sedan pulled into an underground parking garage beneath a luxury high-rise in Tribeca.
Dominic led her to a private elevator that bypassed the lobby entirely.
The doors opened into a sprawling, immaculate penthouse overlooking the city skyline.
It was stark, minimalist, and completely devoid of personal touches.
"Is this your home?" Nora asked, wrapping his oversized coat tighter around herself.
"It's one of them," Dominic replied, moving to a sleek kitchen island.
He poured two glasses of amber liquid and slid one toward her.
"Drink it. It will help with the shock."
Nora ignored the glass.
"If the box belonged to your father, how did I get the key?" she demanded.
Dominic leaned heavily against the marble counter.
"That is exactly what we are going to find out tomorrow when the bank opens."
He pointed to a hallway.
"There is a guest bedroom at the end."
"The bathroom is fully stocked."
"Get some sleep."
Nora hesitated, feeling incredibly vulnerable in the luxurious surroundings.
"You expect me to just trust you?"
Dominic sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Nora, if I wanted to kill you, I would have let Mason do it."
"If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn't have brought you here."
"I want the ledger."
"And I want to know what happened to my sister."
He turned away, dismissing her.
Nora retreated to the guest room and locked the heavy oak door.
She showered quickly, the hot water washing away the grime and dried blood from the warehouse.
She found a stack of clean clothes on the bed—simple sweatpants and a soft t-shirt that actually fit her.
She lay down on the massive bed, exhaustion finally pulling her under.
When she woke, sunlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She dressed quickly and stepped cautiously out into the main living area.
Dominic was sitting at a glass dining table, speaking quietly in Italian on a secure phone.
He ended the call as she approached.
"We have a problem," he said bluntly.
"Rourke knows we're alive."
"He's put a two-million-dollar bounty on both our heads."
Nora felt her stomach drop.
"Every hitter on the East Coast will be looking for us," she whispered.
Dominic stood up, buttoning a fresh suit jacket.
"Which means we need to get to the bank immediately."
He handed her a sleek leather jacket to replace his bulky overcoat.
"Stay close to me, and don't speak to anyone."
They took a different elevator down to the street level, emerging into the bustling morning crowds.
They walked briskly for three blocks until the imposing stone facade of the First Manhattan Trust came into view.
Dominic led her inside, bypassing the main teller line and heading straight for the vault manager's desk.
The manager, a nervous man in a cheap suit, paled visibly when he recognized Dominic.
"Mr. Vale," he stammered.
"I need access to box 814," Dominic said coldly.
He placed the silver key on the desk.
The manager swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously toward the security guards.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Vale," the manager squeaked.
"But box 814 was emptied an hour ago."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"By whom?"
May you like
The manager pointed a trembling finger at Nora.
"By her."
