Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Cellar
Leo kicked the cellar door open with a resounding crash that rattled the coffee mugs on the counter.
“Clear!” Leo barked, stepping down into the dark stairwell with his pistol raised, the tactical flashlight mounted under the barrel cutting a sharp beam through the dust-choked air.
The other two guards followed him down, their boots descending into the shadows.
Gabriel stood at the top of the stairs, his own hand resting inside his jacket, his eyes narrowed as he listened to the muffled sounds of shifting crates and heavy breathing below.
“Found something, Boss,” Leo’s voice echoed up from the dark, tense and tight. “Get down here.”
Gabriel glanced back at me. “Stay here.”
“I’m not staying here alone,” I snapped, sliding out of the booth and following him down the narrow wooden stairs before he could stop me.
The basement smelled of damp earth, old potatoes, and rust. The single overhead bulb swung lazily on a frayed cord, casting long, jittery shadows across rows of metal shelving stacked with bulk supplies.
In the far corner, behind a stack of empty tomato sauce crates, something was curled up against the concrete foundation.
“Don't move!” Leo shouted, keeping his weapon trained on the figure.
The figure stirred, letting out a weak, raspy cough. Slowly, hands caked in flour and grease rose into the air, trembling violently.
It wasn't a hitman. It wasn't an assassin sent by rival syndicates to finish off Paulie’s successor.
It was a young man—no older than twenty-two—wearing a soiled Benny’s apron, his face pale and slick with sweat, staring down the barrel of Leo’s gun with absolute terror in his eyes.
“Don't shoot! Please don't shoot!” the kid choked out, tears cutting tracks through the dust on his cheeks.
Gabriel lowered his hand inside his jacket, his eyes narrowing as he stepped past Leo. He looked down at the terrified kid.
“Who are you?” Gabriel demanded.
“I’m... I’m Leo’s... no, I mean, I’m Benny’s nephew,” the kid stammered, shivering violently against the cold concrete. “Timmy. I sleep down here sometimes. I forgot the alarm was set when you guys locked up, and I was too scared to come out when I heard voices!”
Leo holstered his weapon, stepping forward with a scowl. “You stupid idiot. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Timmy sobbed, curling into a ball.
I stepped past Gabriel, kneeling down next to the kid. I could see the way his fingers were trembling—not just from fear, but from something else. His skin was clammy, his breathing shallow and wheezing.
“Timmy, look at me,” I said softly, gently touching his wrist. His pulse was racing a mile a minute. “Are you okay? Have you been eating?”
“I haven't eaten since yesterday morning,” Timmy whispered. “Uncle Benny locks the pantry at night. I was trying to grab a bag of flour to bake some bread for the morning shift when you guys came in. I hid because I thought... I thought you were here for him.”
I looked up at Gabriel.
The boss of the city’s criminal underworld stood quietly in the dim cellar light, looking down at the starving kid cowering behind the tomato cans. The heavy silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken parallels.
Gabriel hadn't been the only one starving in this city tonight.
“Get him up,” Gabriel said quietly, turning his back and walking toward the stairs. “Get him upstairs. Feed him.”
As Leo hauled the trembling kid to his feet, I caught Gabriel’s eye in the dim light. The paranoia hadn't left him—it never would. But something else had joined it.
A crack in the armor.
May you like
And on these streets, a crack was all it took for everything to fall apart.
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