Chapter 10
The cavernous main concourse of Penn Station was a dizzying blur of motion, echoing with the robotic announcements of departing trains and the shuffle of a thousand footsteps. Nico burst through the main doors, completely ignoring the rain soaking his charcoal-gray dress shirt. He stood frozen for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes scanning the massive departure board glowing high above the crowd.
Amtrak 291 - Northbound to Albany - Track 14 - DEPARTING IN 3 MINUTES.
"Track 14," Nico muttered, his heart launching into his throat.
He moved through the crowded station with terrifying, singular focus. People instinctively scrambled out of his way, feeling the dark, overwhelming intensity radiating from his broad-shouldered frame. He bypassed the ticketing lines, sprinting past the security kiosks, his polished leather shoes slipping slightly on the slick tile floors.
He reached the top of the escalator leading down to Track 14. He didn't wait for the mechanical stairs; he vaulted down them two at a time, his chest burning, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
The platform was packed with passengers hurrying to board the sleek silver train idling on the tracks. The final boarding whistle shrieked through the subterranean air, a piercing sound that signaled the end of his world.
Nico’s eyes darted frantically across the sea of umbrellas, suitcases, and winter coats. He pushed past a group of businessmen, his panic rising to an unbearable crescendo.
And then, he saw it.
Fifty yards down the dim platform, standing near the very last passenger car, was a worn, camel-colored wool coat.
Elena.
She was standing perfectly still, holding her old black canvas duffel bag over her shoulder. Her beautiful, gentle face was turned toward the open train doors, her chestnut-brown hair clinging damply to her cheeks. From the side pocket of her coat, the handle of the chipped white coffee mug was visibly protruding.
Nico’s lungs seized. "Elena!" he roared, his deep voice carrying over the noise of the idling train engine.
Elena flinched. She turned her head slowly, her expressive eyes widening in absolute shock as she saw the powerful, feared mafia boss sprinting down the dirty concrete platform toward her, looking completely unhinged and desperate.
She took a terrified step backward, toward the open train doors.
"Elena, please! Don't get on!" Nico shouted, closing the distance rapidly, his hands raised in surrender.
But before he could reach her, a sudden, violent commotion erupted near the stairwell. Three large men in heavy black leather jackets—men bearing the unmistakable insignia of the rival Donatelli faction—stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, directly blocking Nico’s path to Elena.
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The lead Donatelli enforcer smiled, drawing a silenced weapon from his jacket. "Well, look what we found. The King of Manhattan, running around without his crown."
Nico skidded to a halt, trapped between the loaded gun of a rival assassin and the closing doors of the train holding the woman he loved. He looked past the gunmen, his dark, desperate eyes locking onto Elena’s terrified face just as the conductor raised his hand to seal the train.
