Chapter 8 - The Night Vincent Asked Me to Walk Away From Him
The Crow collapsed.
Arrests spread across Chicago.
Bank accounts were seized.
Businesses were investigated.
Politicians resigned.
My bakery became the center of the story.
Reporters called me the baker who saved Chicago's most feared mafia boss.
I hated that headline.
So I baked.
Bread.
Cakes.
Cookies.
Normal things.
Vincent visited every evening.
He usually stood in the doorway watching me.
One night, he didn't come inside.
“What happened?”
“I need you to leave Chicago.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You're safer away from me.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“My enemies aren't finished.”
“Yes, they are.”
“No.”
He showed me a photograph.
A new symbol.
A black rose.
“The Crow had factions.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And you want me to run?”
“I want you alive.”
I walked toward him.
“You spent nineteen years protecting me without asking whether I wanted protection.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You nearly died.”
“I know.”
“And now you think you can send me away because you're scared?”
His eyes softened.
“I am scared.”
The confession broke my anger.
He stepped closer.
“I have never been afraid of guns.”
He touched my cheek.
“I am afraid of loving you.”
I whispered, “Then don't run.”
His eyes closed.
I leaned forward.
He kissed me.
Not like a mafia boss.
Not like a man feared by Chicago.
Like a wounded man who had finally found somewhere safe to put his heart.
Then a gunshot shattered the bakery window.
Vincent pulled me down.
The bullet struck the wall.
May you like
A black rose lay on the floor.
The final enemy had arrived.
