Chapter 6 - The Visitor at the Door
The screen of the phone pulsed with a silent, glowing light against the dark glass surface. Neither Daniel nor Claire moved for a long moment, as if the glowing rectangle were a venomous snake coiled on the table.
Claire swallowed hard, her grip tightening instinctively around the baby. “Read it.”
Daniel stepped over, picking up the phone. His eyes scanned the single line of text displayed on the screen: “One hour. Bring yourself to the old marina warehouse, or the child’s first birthday will be celebrated in a morgue. Bring no weapons.”
A dark, lethal shadow crossed Daniel’s face. The internal conflict that had tormented him for months crystallized into absolute, cold clarity. They weren't just watching him; they were watching every move he made, tracking his every breath.
“Who is it?” Claire asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound brave.
“Vince,” Daniel lied smoothly, keeping his tone carefully controlled so as not to panic her further. It wasn't Vince who sent the text—the signature at the root of the secure routing code belonged to someone far more dangerous: Marcus, the head of the syndicate. Marcus never made empty threats.
“You’re not going,” Claire said immediately, reading the grim resignation in Daniel’s eyes. “It’s a trap. They want you out in the open where they can finish you.”
“If I don’t go, they bring the war straight to this apartment,” Daniel said quietly, setting the phone back down on the table. He reached up, running a hand through his short dark hair, before looking deep into Claire’s eyes. “Listen to me, Claire. From the moment I walked through that door tonight, your lives were put back in the crosshairs. The only way to take the target off this nursery is for me to draw them away.”
“And if you don’t come back?” Claire whispered, a single tear breaking free and tracing a clean path down her cheek. “What am I supposed to tell our child about the father who walked away twice?”
Daniel reached out, his calloused, tattooed hand trembling slightly as he gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was feather-light, filled with a tenderness that defied his terrifying exterior.
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“Tell them I went to war so they could live in peace,” Daniel murmured.
Before Claire could protest further, a loud, heavy knock echoed sharply against the apartment's front security door, shattering the morning quiet.
