Chapter 2 - The Ledger of the Damned
Enzo crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees beside the woman.
“Claire,” he breathed, his hand hovering for a second before gently brushing a strand of dark, blood-matted hair away from her forehead.
She was unconscious, her breathing shallow and ragged, her face pale as bone. A deep purple bruise bloomed across her jawline, and a nasty gash above her temple was still oozing warm blood onto the cheap carpet. But her chest rose and fell. She was alive. Barely.
“Ray!” Enzo barked, the command sharp enough to shatter glass. “Get the medical kit out of the lead car. Tell Angelo to sweep the perimeter—make sure whoever did this hasn't gotten past the blockades.”
“On it, boss,” Ray muttered, already turning on his heel and bolting back toward the stairs.
Enzo pulled off his soaked suit jacket and folded it carefully, sliding it beneath Claire’s head to elevate her neck. As he did, his fingers brushed against a small, silver pendant clutched tightly in her closed fist. He pried her fingers open with infinite care. It was a locket, engraved with two initials: E & S.
Ethan and Sadie? Or...
Footsteps crunched on the broken glass near the kitchen. Enzo didn't look up; he simply shifted his weight, his thumb sliding the safety off his Sig Sauer with a soft, ominous click.
“Step out where I can see you,” Enzo said, his voice dropping an octave into an icy register.
“Whoa, whoa, easy with the hardware, Marchetti!” a gruff voice called out from the doorway.
Angelo stepped into the light, holding a heavy-set man by the scruff of his cheap leather jacket. The man was whimpering, his nose broken and bleeding freely down his chin, his hands zip-tied securely behind his back.
“We caught this rat trying to climb out the kitchen window,” Angelo reported, shoving the captive forward so hard he tripped over a overturned coffee table and landed face-first on the floor.
Enzo stood up slowly. He holstered his gun, but the absence of the weapon didn't make him look any less dangerous. He walked over to the cowering man, crouched down, and grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head up so their eyes met.
The man was sweating profusely, his eyes darting wildly around the ruined room. “I—I didn't know! I swear to God, I didn't know she was connected to you, Enzo! We were just sent to shake her up, make sure she dropped the zoning lawsuit against the downtown development project! We didn't mean to—!”
“A zoning lawsuit,” Enzo repeated, his voice dangerously soft.
“Yeah! The commercial district expansion! She wouldn't sign over the deed to her late husband’s bakery! Developer Salvatore paid us to—to scare her into signing!”
Enzo’s eyes narrowed. Salvatore. A low-level municipal contractor who thought he could play in the big leagues by hiring street thugs to terrorize a widow.
“You broke into a woman’s home,” Enzo said, his tone flat, measured, and terrifyingly calm. “You beat her in front of her child. You ruined a dinner reservation that took three weeks to secure.”
The thug swallowed hard, his throat clicking. “Please... boss... mercy—”
“Mercy is a luxury for people who don't leave witnesses,” Enzo said quietly. He stood up, turning to Angelo and Ray, who had just rushed back into the room with the medical bag. “Patch Claire up. Get her and Sadie into the safe house on the North Shore. Dr. Evans is already on standby.”
May you like
“And him?” Ray asked, nodding toward the weeping thug on the floor.
“Take him to the harbor warehouse,” Enzo said, adjusting his cuffs. “Tell the boys to prep the meat-hooks. I’ll be there in an hour. I have a few zoning questions of my own to ask.”
