Chapter 9 - The Shadow in the Hallway
Both of their heads snapped toward the kitchen entrance.
“Leo,” Rico breathed, the mafia boss instantly replaced by a terrified father.
In a fraction of a second, Rico crossed the kitchen floor, moving with lightning speed. Clara was right behind him, sprinting up the grand staircase and down the west wing hallway.
When they reached Leo’s bedroom, the door was half-open.
Leo was standing beside his race-car bed, clutching a stuffed brown bear against his chest, his eyes wide with absolute terror as he stared toward the open window leading to the private balcony.
The heavy velvet drapes were billowing inward, whipped by a sudden gust of cold autumn wind. A shadow flickered across the balcony glass.
“Stay behind me,” Rico commanded sharply, drawing his hidden firearm with practiced fluidity.
He stepped into the room, sweeping the corners with his pistol raised, checking the bathroom and the walk-in closet. The room was empty. The balcony door had simply blown open because the latch hadn't been fully secured during the earlier commotion.
Rico exhaled a harsh breath, lowering his weapon. He walked over to the window, locked the latch securely, and drew the heavy drapes shut.
Then he turned around and knelt down beside his son.
“Hey, buddy,” Rico said, his voice instantly softening into that gentle, heartbreaking register reserved only for the boy. “It’s okay. The wind just blew the door open. You’re safe.”
Leo didn't answer. He was trembling violently, his lower lip quivering as he stared past Rico—straight at Clara.
Clara didn't wait for permission. She walked past Rico, knelt down on the rug beside the boy, and opened her arms.
Leo didn't hesitate this time. He dropped his stuffed bear, lunged forward, and buried his face in Clara’s shoulder, wrapping his small arms tightly around her neck.
Clara wrapped her arms around him, rocking him gently back and forth. “I’ve got you, Leo. I’m right here. Nobody is getting past this door tonight. I promise.”
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Rico knelt beside them, placing one large, warm hand gently on his son’s back, while his other hand brushed against Clara’s shoulder. The touch was grounding, solid, and absolute.
For the first time in six months, the shadows in the room didn't feel loud anymore.
