Chapter 4 - The Price of SurvivalThe confrontation was short, brutal, and chaotic. Damian arrived a second later, tackling Vane before he could pull the trigger, but the doctor was fast. He deployed a smoke grenade that filled the hallway with acrid, gray fumes.
I gripped Leah tightly, ducking behind a heavy marble statue. "Don't look, Leah," I whispered, shielding her eyes. "Don't you dare look."
Damian and Vane fought like animals. It wasn't a gentleman's spar; it was a desperate, primal struggle. Damian finally subdued the doctor, smashing his hand into the wall until the gun clattered to the floor.
"Who are you working for?" Damian roared, his face bloodied.
Vane laughed, a thin, wheezing sound. "You think you own the world, Caruso? You’re just a puppet. The files aren't in the ledger. They’re in the girl’s head."
Damian turned to look at Leah, his expression turning to pure, unadulterated fear. "She knows?"
"She saw it all," Vane spat. "She saw the names. That’s why she doesn't speak. If she speaks, the people who really run this city will make sure she never wakes up."
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Damian looked at me. For the first time, he wasn't the powerful boss; he was a father, and he was terrified. "We have to leave. Now."
We fled the mansion, heading for the one place Vane wouldn't look—a small, dilapidated cabin in the mountains, a place Damian had kept as a 'doomsday' retreat. For the first time, the mafia kingpin and the waitress were equals, two people bound by a child who held the secrets of a dynasty.
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