Chapter 7 - Fractured Trust
The heavy knock reverberated through the quiet apartment like a gunshot. Daniel’s hand dropped instantly from Claire’s face, his body pivoting toward the hallway with predatory speed.
“Stay here,” Daniel ordered in a low, fierce whisper, his eyes scanning the room for any makeshift weapon before grabbing a heavy brass paperweight from the side table.
Claire clutched the baby closer to her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she backed slowly toward the safety of the master bedroom. “Daniel, don’t open it. Call the police.”
“The police won’t reach us in time, and they certainly can't protect us from Marcus,” Daniel muttered over his shoulder.
He crept silently down the short hallway, flattening his back against the wall beside the heavy oak door. Another series of loud, demanding raps shook the frame.
“Vance! I know you’re in there,” a raspy, unfamiliar voice called out from the landing. “We don’t want to break the door down, but we will. And we won’t be polite about who’s inside.”
Daniel gripped the brass paperweight tighter, his knuckles turning white. He reached out with his free hand, unlatched the deadbolt with a soft click, and swung the door wide open, raising the heavy object to strike.
Standing in the hallway was not an armed syndicate hitman, but a young courier dressed in a high-visibility vest, looking terrified out of his mind. In his trembling hands, he held a sleek black envelope sealed with a heavy red wax stamp.
“M-Mr. Vance?” the courier stammered, holding the envelope out like a shield. “I was paid a thousand dollars to deliver this directly to your hands within five minutes. If I didn't, well... they said bad things would happen.”
Daniel lowered the paperweight slightly, his eyes narrowing as he snatched the envelope from the boy’s hands. “Who gave you this?”
“I don’t know! A guy in a black sedan down on the street. Just take it, please!” The courier turned on his heel and bolted down the stairwell, his hurried footsteps echoing away into the morning silence.
Daniel closed the door slowly, locking the deadbolt back into place. He walked back into the living room where Claire was waiting, her face etched with raw anxiety.
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“What is it?” she asked, her voice barely a breath.
Daniel tore open the black envelope. Inside was a single photograph of the apartment building’s lobby taken timestamped just three minutes ago, along with a handwritten note: “You have thirty minutes, Daniel. Walk out alone, or the elevator cable snaps.”
