Chapter 2 - The Crimson Ledger
Dominic’s instincts flared before the sound had even faded. He caught her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from his cuff, and stood upright. Viktor had already unholstered his weapon, his massive frame positioned defensively before the penthouse entryway.
"Stay here," Dominic commanded softly, his voice dropping into the quiet cadence that his subordinates feared more than shouting. "Lock the penthouse fire doors. Evans arrives through the service shaft only."
Dominic took the secondary service elevator down to the mezzanine overlooking the dining room. The heavy brass chandelier swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the marble floor. Below, two of his floor managers were kneeling beside the spilled cash. Among the loose stacks of currency lay the envelope Dean had sent.
It had not merely contained money. Inside the tear where Dominic had pulled it open, a secondary lining of blackened parchment was visible, dusted with a pale, crystalline powder that sparkled faintly under the chandelier.
Dominic walked down the sweeping staircase, the heels of his leather shoes striking the stone with measured precision. "Back away from it," he ordered.
The men scrambled back immediately. Dominic drew a pair of thin leather driving gloves from his pocket and slid them on. He crouched beside the envelope, using the tip of a silver pocket knife to pry back the torn flap. Beneath the decoy cash sat a ledger leaf torn from a maritime manifest—an authentic shipping record bearing the insignia of the Port Authority. But across the top, written in fresh, dark crimson fluid that smelled faintly of copper, was a single coordinate and a name.
THE RED ANCHOR. 03:00. BRING THE GIRL.
Dominic’s phone vibrated against his ribs. He answered without looking at the screen.
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"Dominic," a voice rasping through heavy static came over the line. It was Dean, but the man was weeping, breathing through broken teeth. "I'm sorry. They had my brother’s kids. Don't look in her pocket. Dominic, whatever you do, don't look in her—"
A gunshot shattered the connection into dead air.
