Chapter 13 - Blood in the Water
The line clicked dead into a hollow dial tone. Vincent held the receiver for three seconds, his heartbeat eerily slow and rhythmic—the biological trance of a predator preparing for war.
"Trace the analog junction," Vincent ordered, slamming the phone onto its cradle.
"It pinged the old industrial docks on Pier 42," Angelo replied immediately, tapping his tablet. "Abandoned grain silos. Dead zone for municipal surveillance. It's a kill box, Vincent. You cannot go alone."
"I am not going alone," Vincent said, striding toward the armory cabinet behind his desk. He punched in a eight-digit combination, and the mahogany bookcase swung open to reveal an arsenal: suppressed assault carbines, tactical blades, and ceramic body armor. "Assemble the Black Guard. Ten men. No radios, no cellular signals. Strictly hand signals and thermal vision."
"Papa?"
A small, hesitant voice broke through the tension.
Vincent froze. He turned his head slowly. Standing at the entrance of the armory was Ruby. She had slipped past the guards in the panic bunker—a stealthy habit she had inherited from him. She clutched a plush velvet bear in one hand, her wide, innocent eyes darting between the assault rifles and the tactical vest strapped across her father’s broad chest.
Vincent instantly softened his stance, slipping his hands into his pockets to hide the combat knife he was holding. He crouched down to her eye level, offering a warm, reassuring smile that masked the fire in his soul.
"Ruby," Vincent said softly. "Why aren't you in the lounge, little bird?"
Ruby walked forward, her tiny Mary Jane shoes tapping softly on the hardwood. She reached out and touched the cold Kevlar over Vincent's chest. "Are you going to fight the bad men again?"
Vincent swallowed the lump in his throat. He gently cupped her cheek, feeling the soft, pure warmth of her skin. "Papa has some business to settle. Just sweeping the leaves from the garden so my princess can play safely tomorrow."
Ruby looked into his eyes with an uncanny perception far beyond her five years. "Mommy’s swallow comb... I saw it on your desk. The shiny bird."
Vincent’s breath caught in his throat. "You saw it?"
"I dream about the shiny bird sometimes," Ruby whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. "A lady with soft hands sang to me through the window when I was three. She told me to never let anyone take my crown."
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A chill raced down Vincent's spine. Caterina had been alive. She had visited this house. And she was watching them.
***
