Chapter 3 - They Burned Me Because I Saved Him—So the Mafia Boss Burned His Own Empire to Keep Me AliveThe attack lasted eleven minutes.
It felt like eleven hours.
Vincent moved me through a hidden staircase behind his library while his security team fought downstairs.
“You have a hidden staircase?”
“Old house.”
“You're a mafia boss.”
“That too.”
Even terrified, I almost laughed.
We escaped through an underground garage.
Rosa came with us.
So did Vincent's head of security, Elias Kane.
We drove to a safe house outside Chicago.
Vincent barely spoke.
Marco's betrayal had cut deeper than he wanted anyone to see.
“He's family,” I said.
Vincent looked through the window.
“He was.”
“You trusted him.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
He looked at me.
“Trevor.”
I nodded.
For once, we understood each other without explanation.
Betrayal wasn't simply discovering someone was bad.
It was discovering your memories had become unreliable.
Vincent told me the rest that night.
Marco had secretly worked with Caruso for years.
Three years earlier, Marco leaked Vincent's location.
The shooting that brought Vincent to Mercy General had been an assassination attempt.
When I prevented Caruso's men from reaching Vincent, I accidentally became part of the war.
Vincent had tried to erase me from it.
Marco found me anyway.
“Why wait three years?”
“The drive.”
Marco believed I had it.
“And the fire?”
“To search the apartment and remove me afterward.”
I swallowed.
“They weren't trying to scare me.”
“No.”
“They were trying to kill me.”
Vincent's silence answered.
I looked at my scarred hands.
For four months, I had blamed myself.
If I'd woken earlier.
If I'd noticed the smell.
If I'd moved faster.
None of it mattered.
Someone had decided I was disposable.
Trevor had simply opened the door.
Vincent crouched in front of me.
“Harper.”
I looked up.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For bringing this into your life.”
“You didn't.”
“My war did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Caruso did. Marco did. Trevor made his choice.”
I touched the hospital bracelet still sitting on the table.
“And I made mine three years ago.”
“You didn't know who I was.”
“Would it have mattered?”
Vincent looked at me.
“No.”
“You were bleeding.”
“Yes.”
“Then no.”
Something in his expression broke.
He raised one hand toward my face.
Then stopped before touching me.
“May I?”
No one had asked since the fire.
Doctors touched me.
Nurses.
Physical therapists.
Trevor had stopped touching me entirely.
I nodded.
Vincent's fingertips touched the scar along my jaw.
Softly.
No pity.
No disgust.
Just warmth.
“You look at me differently,” I whispered.
“How?”
“Like you don't see them.”
“The scars?”
“Yes.”
“I see them.”
That hurt unexpectedly.
Then he continued.
“I just don't think they subtract anything.”
My eyes filled.
Vincent lowered his hand.
I caught it.
Then I kissed him.
Once.
Briefly.
I immediately stepped back.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“I was dumped yesterday.”
“Three days ago.”
“That doesn't improve it.”
“No.”
“You're a criminal.”
“Yes.”
“Stop agreeing with everything.”
He smiled.
For the first time, I saw what Vincent Calder might have looked like before violence taught him not to smile.
Then his phone rang.
Trevor had disappeared.
Again.
This time voluntarily.
He had taken the drive.
I stared at Elias.
“How?”
Trevor had been moved to another safe location.
Only three people knew.
Vincent.
Elias.
And me.
Unless Trevor had never been as helpless as we believed.
A message arrived.
From Trevor.
Caruso wants to trade. Drive for Harper. Midnight. Navy Pier warehouse.
Vincent's expression became lethal.
“No.”
“What?”
“You're not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
I laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The difference between protecting someone and controlling them.”
He became still.
“Harper—”
“You don't own me.”
“I know.”
“Then stop deciding.”
His jaw tightened.
“If you walk into that warehouse, they will use you.”
“Then we make sure I'm useful.”
We built a plan.
At midnight, I entered the warehouse carrying the drive.
Vincent's men surrounded the area unseen.
Caruso waited inside.
Marco beside him.
Trevor stood near the wall.
Alive.
Uninjured.
And suddenly I understood.
“You're with them.”
Trevor couldn't meet my eyes.
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
Caruso laughed.
“You hear that, Trevor?”
He looked at me.
“Miss Bellamy, you've caused an extraordinary amount of trouble.”
“You set me on fire.”
“I ordered a problem removed.”
Vincent's voice came from behind me.
“Then remove me.”
He stepped into the light.
Caruso smiled.
“There he is.”
Guns rose.
Vincent looked only at me.
Trust me, his eyes said.
I did.
Not blindly.
Never blindly again.
I trusted the plan.
I dropped the drive.
Trevor lunged for it.
The warehouse lights died.
Gunfire erupted.
I dropped behind a steel crate.
Vincent's men entered.
Marco fired toward Vincent.
I saw it before he did.
“Vincent!”
He turned.
The bullet struck his side.
Vincent fell.
Something inside me became terrifyingly calm.
Nurse.
Emergency room.
Blood.
Pressure.
Airway.
I crawled to him.
“Vincent.”
“Harper, move.”
“Shut up.”
I pressed both hands against the wound.
Caruso's men surrendered.
Marco ran.
Elias chased him.
Trevor remained frozen near the drive.
Then Caruso grabbed me.
A gun pressed against my head.
Vincent tried to rise.
“Don't.”
Caruso dragged me backward.
“Drop your weapons.”
Everyone stopped.
Then Trevor moved.
He tackled Caruso.
The gun fired.
Caruso fell.
Trevor fell beside him.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then I saw blood beneath Trevor.
I crawled toward him.
He looked at me.
“Harper.”
“Don't talk.”
He laughed weakly.
“You always say that.”
The bullet had entered his abdomen.
Bad.
Very bad.
I pressed my hands down.
Trevor cried out.
“Why?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Because once... you came back for me.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“You idiot.”
“Yes.”
Paramedics arrived.
Trevor survived.
So did Vincent.
Caruso was arrested after the drive was delivered to federal investigators.
Marco disappeared.
That was the problem.
Three weeks later, Vincent was recovering at home.
I had moved into a small apartment downtown.
My own apartment.
My own key.
No Trevor.
No Vincent.
I needed that.
Vincent understood.
He visited.
Never uninvited.
Sometimes with coffee.
Sometimes without anything.
One evening, he sat beside me on the balcony.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“With Caruso?”
“With you.”
Vincent became quiet.
“The organization changes.”
“What does that mean?”
“I dismantle the parts that should never have existed.”
I studied him.
“You can do that?”
“I built half of them.”
“And the other half?”
“Legitimate businesses remain.”
“You'd leave the mafia?”
“For myself?”
He considered it.
“Probably not.”
I looked away.
Then he added:
“For the possibility of becoming someone you don't have to be afraid to love?”
My heart stopped.
Vincent didn't touch me.
“I would try.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No voice.
Then a photograph arrived.
Me and Vincent sitting on the balcony.
Taken seconds earlier.
My blood froze.
Another photograph followed.
Marco.
Standing beside Trevor's hospital bed.
Gun pressed against Trevor's head.
Then the message.
May you like
You saved Vincent Calder twice.
Let's see who he chooses to save once.
