Chapter 11 - Sofia
Charles tightened his grip on Nico.
Sofia did not look afraid.
That frightened Vincent more than anything.
“Where is the ledger?” Rocco demanded.
Sofia lifted her eyes to the speaker. “You’re nine years dead and still impatient.”
A door behind her opened wider.
Rocco Moretti stepped into the room.
He was seventy-four, broad despite his age, with white hair, a cane, and the same gold tooth Emily had remembered from the photograph. He looked less like a ghost than a man offended by time.
Vincent stared at him.
“You let us bury an empty coffin.”
Rocco shrugged. “The funeral was beautiful.”
Sofia’s mouth twisted. “He watched the recording twice.”
Rocco struck her with the cane.
Vincent surged forward.
The laser snapped back onto Nico’s chest.
He stopped.
Rocco smiled. “There he is. The famous Vincent Moretti. Controlled by a three-year-old.”
“My son is two.”
“Three next month.”
The fact that Rocco knew the birthday made Vincent’s stomach turn.
Sofia met Vincent’s eyes. “Nico knows what to do.”
Rocco frowned.
Nico suddenly bit Charles’s hand.
Charles shouted and let go.
The boy dropped to the floor and crawled under the metal irrigation table.
Sofia slammed backward into the guard behind her. Vincent dove for his pistol.
The room erupted.
One shot. Two. A pipe burst. Water blasted across the floor.
Vincent fired at the overhead light, plunging half the room into shadow.
Sofia grabbed Nico and rolled behind a concrete support.
Charles ran through the side door with the pendant.
Rocco disappeared the other way.
Vincent reached Sofia.
For one second they simply stared at each other.
Then she slapped him.
Hard.
Vincent blinked.
“That’s for getting engaged.”
He laughed, actually laughed, while tears ran down his face.
Then she grabbed his coat and kissed him once, desperate and furious.
“That’s for coming.”
Nico looked between them. “Mommy, is he in trouble?”
“Constantly.”
A red alarm began flashing.
Sofia’s expression changed.
“What?” Vincent asked.
“Rocco rigged the greenhouse with accelerant.”
May you like
Smoke rolled under the far door.
“He’s burning the tunnels,” she said. “And Grace is still down there.”
