Chapter 5 - Storm on the Horizon
She flinched at my touch before realizing it was me. She looked up, her face wet with tears, dark circles shadowing her beautiful green eyes.
“I’m just so tired, Vincent,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Every time I close my eyes, I see that man standing over her crib. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I try to be strong for her, but I feel like I’m breaking.”
Without a word, I reached down and lifted her up from the chair. She didn't fight me. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly against my chest. She collapsed against me, burying her face into my neck, her hands gripping my shirt as she sobbed silently.
“I’m here,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here now, Sloan. You don't have to carry this alone anymore. I won't let anyone touch you. I swear it.”
That night, for the first time in six months, Sloan slept in our bed, anchored by my arm wrapped around her waist, while Willa slept safely in the bassinet beside us.
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At dawn, the peaceful illusion shattered. My phone lit up on the nightstand. It was a picture message from an unknown number. I unlocked the screen. It was a photo of Marco’s car, engulfed in flames outside a warehouse in Queens.
Below the picture was a text message: “The consigliere is burning, Vincent. Next comes the daughter. Tonight at the docks.”
