Chapter 9 - Whispers in the DarkThe sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Hudson River in bruised shades of purple and black.
I sat by the window in a plush velvet armchair, staring down at the gold band on my finger. My mind was racing, spinning through a dozen desperate escape scenarios. How many guards were downstairs? Were the gates monitored? Could I call Detective Miller from a landline?
Suddenly, a soft, urgent tap sounded at the heavy oak door.
I froze. I stood up slowly, walking cautiously across the room. “Who is it?”
“Elena,” a low voice whispered through the keyhole. “It’s Enzo. Open up. Quickly.”
I twisted the brass handle and pulled the door open a crack. Enzo slipped inside the room, his coat collar turned up, his eyes darting anxiously toward the hallway.
“What are you doing here, Enzo?” I whispered, my heart thumping against my ribs. “Did Dominic send you?”
“No. Boss is downstairs meeting with the capos,” Enzo said, speaking rapidly. “I came because you need to know what’s happening outside these walls. Costa isn't backing down. After our men wiped out his hit squad at the diner on 4th Street last night, Costa issued a direct order: he wants you alive, and he wants you broken.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach. “Why me? I’m just a waitress.”
“You’re a Rossi now,” Enzo corrected grimly. “And more than that... you humiliated Costa by ruining an execution that was supposed to cripple this family. In his mind, your survival is an insult to his honor.”
Enzo reached into his inner coat pocket and slid a small, burner cell phone across the wooden table.
“What is this?” I asked, staring at it suspiciously.
“Detective Miller has been trying to reach you,” Enzo said in a hushed tone. “He left a number on this encrypted chip. If you want out—if you want the feds to extract you from this estate before Costa’s war burns this house to the ground—call the number. But understand something, Mrs. Rossi: the moment you make that call, Dominic won't be able to protect you from the federal indictments either.”
I stared down at the small black burner phone lying on the table like a live grenade.
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Escape on one side. Protection on the other.
And trapped right in the middle was me.
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