Chapter 16 - The Broken Mirror
Harper spent the next twelve hours keeping Roman Falco alive.
She monitored his pulse, changed his blood-soaked bandages, and forced water past his pale lips whenever he drifted into a feverish delirium.
Chloe sat quietly in the corner, watching her older sister operate with a cold, mechanical efficiency.
You look just like him, Chloe said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence of the bunker.
Harper paused, her blood-stained hands hovering over Roman’s chest.
Like who?
Like Dad, Chloe whispered, pulling the thermal blanket tighter around her shoulders.
When things went wrong, when Mom got sick... he would get this look in his eyes.
Like he was a machine.
Like nothing could hurt him.
Harper swallowed hard, the memory of her father conflicting violently with the truth Roman had revealed.
He was a criminal, Chloe, Harper said, her voice devoid of emotion.
He worked for the cartel.
He laundered their money, and it got him killed.
Chloe shook her head stubbornly.
I don't believe that.
I remember him smiling.
I remember him taking us to the park.
People are complicated, Harper replied, wiping a damp cloth across Roman’s feverish forehead.
Sometimes the monsters hide in plain sight.
Roman shifted on the cot, groaning in pain as he slowly regained consciousness.
His dark eyes snapped open, instantly analyzing his surroundings.
You are still here, he rasped, his voice rough and dry.
I didn't have the keycard to the surface elevator, Harper replied dryly.
Roman managed a faint, cynical smirk.
Always the pragmatist.
He tried to sit up, but Harper pushed him firmly back down by his good shoulder.
You lost a lot of blood.
The bullet went straight through, but you need real medical attention.
My personal physician is already on his way to the secondary safe house, Roman said, wincing as he spoke.
We cannot stay here.
Davis knows the layout of this estate now.
He had help.
Harper froze.
What do you mean he had help?
Roman looked at her, his eyes cold and calculating despite the pain.
The cartel breached the eastern wing in less than three minutes.
They bypassed a military-grade biometric firewall.
Someone on my inner council gave them the access codes.
Harper felt a cold dread wash over her.
You have a mole.
Roman nodded slowly.
Yes.
And whoever it is, they want me dead just as much as Davis does.
He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the fresh wave of blood that seeped through his bandages.
We need to leave, now.
I have a helicopter waiting five miles from here.
Harper looked at her hands, stained red with the blood of a mafia boss.
She was no longer a civilian caught in the crossfire.
May you like
She was part of the war.
Tell me what to do, she said.
