Chapter 7 – The Velvet Box

Gunfire erupted.

Vincent tackled me to the wet pavement, dragging me behind a stack of wooden pallets. Wood splintered above our heads as bullets tore through the crates.

“Marco!” Vincent roared over the noise, returning fire with his handgun.

Through the fog, I saw Marco shove Vanessa out of the way. He took a bullet to the shoulder, spinning hard onto the concrete. Vanessa screamed, scrambling behind a rusted forklift, completely abandoning him.

Vincent’s precision was terrifying. Two tight shots, and two of the Chicago men dropped. The third hesitated, laying down covering fire before turning to run into the maze of shipping containers.

The pier fell dead silent, save for the sound of the rain and Marco’s ragged breathing.

Vincent stood up slowly, keeping his gun raised. He walked over to his brother. Marco was clutching his shoulder, blood pooling onto the wet dock.

Vanessa crawled out from behind the forklift, her face pale. She looked at Marco, bleeding on the ground, and then at Vincent.

“He made me do it,” Vanessa lied, her voice shaking. “He forced me to forge the care home papers. He forced me to—”

“Shut up,” Vincent said. The absolute finality in his voice made her snap her mouth shut.

Vincent looked down at Marco. “Mother bankrupted herself to save you. And you let Vanessa try to put her in a home.”

“I was scared, Vince,” Marco sobbed. “I thought if Chicago came for me, they’d come for the family. I just wanted the money to pay them off and disappear.”

Vincent reached into his pocket. I thought he was going to pull out his gun again. Instead, he pulled out a small, black velvet box. He tossed it onto Marco’s chest.

Marco flinched, opening it with trembling, bloody fingers.

Inside was a simple gold wedding band.

“Mother bought that for you,” Vincent said quietly. “She knew about Vanessa. She knew about Lily. She just wanted you to make a choice. To be a man.”

Vincent turned his back on his brother. “You’re dead to this family, Marco. Get on a boat. If I ever see your face in this city again, I won’t miss.”

Vincent grabbed my hand, his grip firm and warm despite the freezing rain. “Let’s go get your sister.”

We walked away, leaving Marco bleeding on the docks, Vanessa standing alone in the rain, stripped of all her power.

As we got into the SUV, my phone buzzed again.

It was a text message. From Rosa.

The men guarding the mansion are gone. Someone is inside.