Chapter 3 - The Ghost
Raymond's hands were shaking violently as he aimed the shotgun at me and my baby.
He pleaded with Alessandro to just drop the pistol so nobody else had to get hurt.
Raymond explained that his wife was sick and the rival family had offered him two million dollars for access to the penthouse.
I stared at the man who had given Mia a stuffed bear just last week, unable to process the betrayal.
Alessandro did not show a single trace of sympathy or hesitation.
He raised his weapon and shot Raymond squarely in the right shoulder.
The older man screamed and dropped the shotgun, collapsing onto the concrete floor.
Alessandro grabbed my elbow and shoved me into the back seat of the armored vehicle.
He jumped into the driver's seat and slammed his foot on the accelerator.
The massive tires shrieked against the pavement as we tore out of the underground garage.
We smashed through the wooden security gate and merged recklessly into the chaotic Manhattan traffic.
Rain was pouring down now, washing the city in a cold, gray blur.
I sat in the back, rocking Mia while tears streamed down my face.
I demanded to know who was trying to kill him and why they were willing to slaughter a maid to do it.
Alessandro kept his eyes on the road, weaving dangerously between delivery trucks and taxis.
He explained that his syndicate had recently disrupted a massive human trafficking ring run by a rival faction.
He said they wanted to make a bloody example out of him to prove their power.
I asked him why he cared enough to save me and my daughter instead of leaving us behind.
He looked at me through the rearview mirror with a vulnerability that stole my breath.
He confessed that he had known about Mia for two whole months.
He had secretly watched me sing her to sleep on the security cameras, finding peace in our quiet existence.
Suddenly, my cheap plastic cell phone began to vibrate violently in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out and stared at the caller identification flashing on the cracked screen.
My blood turned entirely to ice.
The name on the screen belonged to Marcus.
Marcus was my abusive ex-boyfriend who had supposedly died in a fiery car crash over a year ago.
I answered the call with trembling fingers.
May you like
A cruel, familiar laugh echoed through the speaker.
Marcus told me to look out the back window because he was right behind us.
