Chapter 7
I drove to Luis’s restaurant before midnight.
He was sitting in the dark dining room with his wife, Rosa, both of them holding each other like one body might break without the other.
When I told them, Rosa stopped breathing.
“No,” she said.
Luis stood so fast his chair fell.
“That’s a lie.”
“I don’t know everything yet.”
“That is my daughter.”
“I believe you.”
“No.” His voice cracked. “You don’t understand. I held her the day she was born. I cut the cord. I taught her to tie those purple shoes.”
Rosa pressed both hands to her mouth.
“She was ours.”
“She is yours,” I said.
But the word blood hung between us, ugly and sharp.
Rosa looked at me.
“Her mother?”
“I don’t know.”
She shook her head.
“I do.”
Luis turned.
“Rosa?”
She closed her eyes.
“Before Elena, I had a sister. Maria. She vanished eight years ago.”
The fake name on the storage unit.
Maria Lane.
Rosa trembled.
“She worked at a club Victor owned. She came to me pregnant, terrified. She said the father was dangerous. She begged me to take the baby if anything happened.”
Luis stared at her.
“You never told me.”
“I was afraid you’d send us away.”
“I loved you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But fear makes people stupid.”
The room fell silent.
Then Tony entered.
“We found the van.”
My pulse kicked.
“Where?”
“Old meatpacking warehouse near the river. Registered to a shell company tied to Victor.”
I looked at Luis.
“You stay here.”
“No.”
“Luis—”
“My daughter is alive. You do not get to tell me to wait.”
I saw the man in front of me.
Not a debtor.
Not a restaurant owner.
A father.
“Then you listen to every command I give.”
He nodded.
Rosa grabbed his sleeve.
“Bring her home.”
Luis kissed her forehead.
“I will.”
At the warehouse, rain hammered the roof.
Bruno moved low beside me, silent.
Inside, we found blood on the floor.
A child’s hair ribbon.
A half-empty bottle of sedative.
But no Elena.
Then Bruno barked once.
He led us to a back office.
On the desk was a monitor.
Live feed.
Elena tied to a chair in a tiled room.
Awake.
Crying.
Victor’s voice came from a speaker.
“Midnight, Dante. You are early.”
I leaned toward the camera.
“And you are dead.”
Victor laughed.
“Not yet.”
Then the screen changed.
A new camera showed the outside of Luis’s restaurant.
May you like
Rosa was alone inside.
Victor whispered, “Choose.”
