Chapter 7 - the shadow of doubt
The silence in the dark bedroom was deafening.
"From inside our own blood?" Lena echoed, stepping back from Adrien. "What does that mean? Who else was in your family back then?"
Adrien stared at the yellowed paper, his mind racing through the ghosts of his youth. "Just my father, myself, and our uncle, Roberto. But Roberto died of a heart attack six months before Elena ran."
"Then who?" Lena’s voice rose with panic. "Could your father have ordered his own daughter’s murder?"
"Antonio Viscari was a ruthless man," Adrien admitted, his voice tight. "He ruled this city with blood. But he worshiped Elena. When she disappeared, he didn't look for power; he destroyed half the families in Manhattan trying to find her until his heart gave out."
Downstairs, a heavy front door creaked shut.
Adrien immediately drew his customized Beretta, stepping in front of Lena and motioning her behind the heavy mahogany wardrobe. Marco drew his sidearm, moving soundlessly toward the hallway.
A shadow crossed the top of the stairs.
Adrien raised his weapon, his finger hovering on the trigger. "Step into the light. Now."
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A man raised two empty hands as he walked into the dim corridor. It wasn't Marcus. It was Julian Blake—seventy years old, gaunt, dressed in a faded trench coat, his face hollowed by age and illness.
"Lower your gun, Adrien," Julian rasped, his voice trembling. "If Marcus knows I’m here, he’ll kill me before the night is over."
