Chapter 5 - The Jane Street Trap
"Nice try, Adrian," Vincent called out over the low rumble of the idling engines, taking a slow drag of his cigarette and exhaling a thin cloud of gray smoke into the crisp air. "Did you really think the old man didn't put a GPS tracker on the town car's transmission?"
I kept my hand firmly wrapped around the grip of my pistol inside my coat, my eyes scanning the alley for an exit, but the brick walls on either side were twenty feet high with no fire escapes within reach.
"Move the cars, Vincent," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Or I start bleeding your men out right here in the street."
Vincent chuckled, flicking his cigarette ash onto the pavement. "You could try. But while you're busy playing hero with us, your father’s primary detail is already paying a very friendly visit to Naomi Ellis at her apartment on Jane Street."
The threat hung in the cool night air like poison.
"You lied," I hissed, taking a step forward. "You said she was safe as long as I stayed away."
"I said she was safe as long as you didn't stir the hornet's nest," Vincent corrected smoothly. "The moment you bolted from the estate, you forced the old man's hand. He’s not going to kill her, Adrian—at least, not yet. But she’s going to be relocated. Permanently. Far enough away that you'll never find them again."
A bitter, violent rage surged through my veins—the dark, suffocating fury that my father had spent my entire life trying to cultivate in me. For five years, I had believed I was a solitary monster. Tonight, I realized I was just a pawn in a larger game designed to strip away everything that made me human.
"Tell me where they are," I demanded, stepping closer, ignoring the laser sights of the carbines locking onto my chest.
"Drop the piece, Adrian," Vincent said, his smile vanishing, replaced by the grim authority of the syndicate enforcer. "Get in the back of the SUV. We're going to Jane Street together. And you’re going to watch your father explain to Naomi why the man she hid from for half a decade just brought a war straight to her doorstep."
I stared at Vincent for a long, silent moment. The tactical lasers danced across my jacket, red dots burning against the dark fabric.
Slowly, deliberately, I let go of my gun, pulled my hand out of my coat, and raised both palms.
"Lead the way," I said.
Vincent nodded to the guards, two of whom stepped forward with zip-ties ready. But before the first plastic cuff could bite into my wrist, the sound of screeching tires echoed from the mouth of the alley.
A battered yellow taxi slammed into park sideways, blocking the narrow exit. The rear door flew open, and before any of us could react, a small figure darted out from the backseat, clutching a sketchbook to her chest.
"Mr. Storm Eyes!" Lily's voice rang out through the alley, small and terrified.
Vincent froze, his hand dropping from his holster. I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs, as another figure emerged from the cab into the harsh glare of the headlights—tall, dark hair falling past her shoulders, her storm-gray eyes blazing with a fury that completely eclipsed my own.
Naomi.
May you like
She stood between her daughter and a half-dozen armed syndicate enforcers, her chin tilted up with the exact same defiant angle I had fallen in love with five years ago.
"Touch my daughter," Naomi said, her voice shaking with a terrifying, crystal-clear rage, "and I swear to God, Adrian, I will make sure you burn with them."
