Chapter 3 - The Cargo
The text burned in my vision.
Don't trust Caruso.
As if I needed a reminder.
But the second part—look in the trunk of the third SUV—sent a cold spike of adrenaline straight through my heart.
We were in the lead SUV.
The second one held my father's bruised body.
The third... it was parked just behind us, idling ominously in the shadowed lot.
“Who is texting you?” Nico asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp.
“Spam,” I lied smoothly, sliding the phone back into my clutch. “Just a boutique I used to shop at.”
He didn't believe me.
I could see the faint tightening of his jaw, the subtle shift in his posture.
But he didn't press.
Instead, he stepped out of the car, gesturing for me to follow.
“Come inside, Evelyn. It's time we had a proper family meeting.”
I hesitated, my eyes darting to the third SUV.
Its tinted windows revealed nothing, but I could feel the weight of its presence, a silent threat hovering in the background.
I forced myself out of the car, my heels clicking loudly on the pavement.
The warehouse was cavernous and damp, smelling of old motor oil and rust.
My father was tied to a chair in the center of the room, breathing heavily, his head slumped forward.
“Dad,” I whispered, taking a step toward him.
Nico’s men blocked my path instantly.
“Not yet,” Nico said, walking slowly around my father like a shark circling wounded prey. “First, James needs to tell us exactly what he discussed with Agent Miller this morning.”
My father lifted his head, his eyes swollen shut, blood caked on his lips.
“Evelyn,” he croaked. “I’m sorry. I thought... I thought I could outsmart them.”
“You thought wrong, James,” Nico said coldly. “Now, tell me. Did you give them the shipping manifest for Pier 42?”
My father hesitated.
That hesitation was all the answer Nico needed.
He sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment.
“You’ve put me in a very difficult position, James. You see, the contents of that shipment were supposed to be a surprise.”
Nico pulled a small remote from his pocket and pressed a button.
Behind us, the heavy metal doors of the warehouse rolled open with a screech.
The third SUV slowly backed into the building.
Two men stepped out, moved to the back, and popped the trunk.
I held my breath, waiting for a body, for weapons, for drugs.
Instead, they pulled out a terrified, weeping woman.
She looked to be about my age, wearing a Columbia University sweatshirt and jeans.
May you like
And she was holding a baby.
“Evelyn,” Nico said softly, motioning toward the woman. “I believe you know your half-sister, Mia?”
