Chapter 2 - Beneath the Alloy
Vincent froze. His dark eyes narrowed onto the tiny bead embedded deep inside the brace’s locking bolt. It was smaller than an aspirin tablet, recessed flush into the aluminum joint, completely invisible unless one were kneeling directly on the floor at this precise angle.
""Uncle Vincent?"" Clara’s voice was a frail whisper, her hazel eyes glistening with fresh tears. ""Did I break it? The man who put it on at the hospital said it was supposed to click like that.""
""No, sweetheart,"" Vincent said, his voice dropping into that warm, protective cadence he only ever reserved for her. ""You didn't break a single thing. You have perfect balance.""
With deliberate, practiced gentleness, he slid his hand beneath her calf, lifting her weight so the heavy brace wouldn't pull against her healing meniscus. With his other hand, he signaled toward Dominic without turning his head. Dominic instantly understood, his expression hardening as he dragged Mrs. Gable deeper into the study, out of the child's sight.
Vincent leaned close to Clara’s ear. ""Do you remember the game we play when storms roll in over the valley? The one where we build a blanket fortress in the library?""
Clara nodded slowly, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. ""With the hot chocolate and the secret knocks?""
""Exactly. Lena will take you up right now. Pick the biggest books for the walls."" He glanced up at the young maid, who stood pale as chalk against the column. ""Lena. Take her to the third-floor safe suite. Do not open that door for anyone except Dominic or myself. Understood?""
""Yes, Mr. Morelli,"" Lena stammered, stepping forward carefully and scooping Clara into her arms with practiced tenderness.
As soon as the elevator doors sealed Clara away, Vincent stood. His entire demeanor shifted from patient guardian to ruthless syndicate boss. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of titanium wire cutters he always kept concealed in his tailored coat, and knelt again.
He carefully severed the tracking unit from Clara’s dropped spare shoe harness without severing the internal battery, preserving its signal. He held the tiny blinking beacon up to the light. It wasn't a standard law enforcement device. The serialized military engraving etched along the casing belonged to only one private defense contractor on the continent: Valmont Dynamics.
A shrill ring broke the silence. Mrs. Gable's abandoned phone was vibrating on the black marble floor.
May you like
Vincent stooped down and picked it up. He swiped the screen to answer and held it to his ear without saying a word.
From the other end came a calm, heavily modulated voice: ""The girl’s vitals show an elevated pulse, Gable. Is the extraction team in position, or do we burn the estate from the outside?""
