Chapter 3 - Warehouse Seventeen
Warehouse Seventeen sat beneath an abandoned stretch of the riverfront.
From above, there was nothing.
Cracked concrete.
Rust.
Broken lights.
But behind a collapsed loading dock was an old service tunnel.
The brass key opened the first gate.
Luca walked ahead.
Marco followed.
I stayed behind them.
The farther we went, the colder the air became.
Finally we reached a steel door.
On it was a faded number.
Luca opened it.
Inside was a room filled with old file cabinets.
Shipping manifests.
Photographs.
Security tapes.
And one wooden box.
Luca saw the photograph first.
Two young men.
Him.
And another man who looked remarkably similar.
Adrian.
Luca picked up the photo.
His hands trembled.
Only once.
Then he controlled himself.
I realized something about powerful men.
They often didn't become powerful because they felt less.
They became powerful because they learned to hide what they felt.
We searched the room.
Then I found another photograph.
My father.
Adrian.
Dominic Rinaldi.
And Vanessa's father.
All standing together.
“What were they doing?”
Luca looked at the picture.
“Trying to expose someone.”
“Who?”
He turned it over.
One word.
MASON.
My stomach dropped.
“Mason who?”
No answer.
Marco found a tape.
The old kind.
He inserted it into a player.
Static filled the room.
Then voices.
My father's.
Adrian's.
Dominic's.
They were arguing.
Adrian shouted:
“You can't keep moving the shipments.”
Dominic answered:
“It's already done.”
My father's voice followed.
“If Mason finds out, we're all dead.”
I looked at Luca.
“Mason.”
He nodded.
The recording continued.
Adrian said:
“You promised Grace's father the ledger would go to the police.”
Dominic laughed.
“You really believed that?”
My father's voice changed.
“You're lying.”
Then another voice entered.
Deep.
Cold.
I had never heard it before.
Mason.
“Where is the girl?”
Silence.
My father said:
“She's not part of this.”
Mason laughed.
“She is now.”
The tape ended.
I couldn't breathe.
Luca turned toward me.
“What girl?”
I whispered:
“Me.”
A sound came from behind us.
The steel door slammed shut.
Marco rushed to it.
Locked.
Then a voice came through the intercom.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Mason.
“You should have stayed away.”
Luca approached the speaker.
“Show yourself.”
“Why?”
“I want to see the man who killed my brother.”
A pause.
Then laughter.
“Adrian wasn't killed.”
Luca froze.
“What?”
“He joined me.”
I stared.
“No.”
Mason continued.
“Your brother understood something you never did.”
“What?”
“Your family was never the target.”
Luca's eyes narrowed.
“Then who?”
“Your father.”
“Dead.”
“Not the point.”
A light turned on.
A hidden screen displayed an image.
My father.
Alive.
Not six years ago.
Five.
Four.
Three.
The latest image was dated six months ago.
My knees weakened.
“He's alive.”
Luca looked at me.
Mason laughed through the speaker.
“Not for long.”
I felt the world tilt.
My father had been alive.
All these years.
Everyone had lied.
The funeral.
The coffin.
The death certificate.
Everything.
Then another image appeared.
A hospital bed.
My father.
Older.
But unmistakably him.
I pressed my good hand against my mouth.
“Where is he?”
Mason didn't answer.
Instead, the door opened.
Two armed men entered.
Luca moved instantly.
The room exploded into violence.
I ducked behind a cabinet.
Marco fought one man.
Luca fought the other.
I saw a metal pipe on the floor.
I grabbed it.
The second man lunged toward Luca.
I struck his arm.
He dropped his weapon.
Luca finished the fight.
For several seconds, there was silence.
Then a third man appeared.
He didn't attack.
He simply held up a photograph.
My father.
And beside him, Adrian.
Alive.
Luca froze.
“Where?”
The man smiled.
“Come alone.”
Luca took one step.
The man raised a device.
A timer.
“Or the hospital burns.”
He ran.
Marco chased him.
But the tunnel exploded with smoke.
Luca grabbed me.
“Move.”
We escaped through an emergency shaft.
Outside, the night air hit like ice.
Luca stood near the river.
My father was alive.
His brother might be alive.
And someone had spent six years manipulating us.
I looked at him.
“Do you believe me now?”
He looked at me.
“I believed you from the beginning.”
“What about your fiancée?”
He stared toward the city.
“She was never my fiancée.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“She was a contract.”
I didn't understand.
Luca turned.
“My father arranged it years ago.”
“Why?”
“Political protection.”
“And you agreed?”
“I thought I did.”
He looked exhausted.
“Then I met you.”
I went still.
“What does that mean?”
He looked into my eyes.
“It means I never intended to love anyone in that house.”
My heart began beating faster.
“And now?”
May you like
Luca took one breath.
“Now I don't know how to do anything else.”
