Chapter 6 - The Red Ledger in the Chapel Wall
St. Vincent's was almost empty when we arrived.
Rain tapped against stained-glass windows, and rows of votive candles flickered beneath the painted faces of saints who looked too peaceful for what we were about to ask them to witness.
Victor entered first.
I followed with my mother.
Adrian and two loyal men remained outside.
"Only two?" I whispered.
Victor glanced at me.
"After tonight, I prefer two men I trust to twenty I don't."
That answer followed me down the aisle.
At the far end of the church, a small memorial chapel sat behind a carved wooden screen.
A brass plaque beside it read:
IN MEMORY OF ISABELLA CASTELLANO
BELOVED MOTHER, GRANDMOTHER, AND WOMAN OF FAITH
Victor touched the plaque with two fingers.
"My grandmother," he said.
"The one who prayed here?"
"Every Sunday until she couldn't walk."
My mother looked toward the main entrance.
"Then hurry."
Inside the chapel stood six carved stone saints.
Third from the altar.
Left hand.
I counted.
Saint Michael.
Saint Jude.
Saint Anthony.
Victor moved to the third statue and examined the stone hand.
At first, nothing looked unusual.
Then I saw a thin seam beneath the wrist.
"There."
Victor pressed against it.
Nothing.
My mother stepped closer.
"Thomas said behind the stone."
I ran my fingers along the base.
A tiny metal catch shifted.
Part of the wall opened with a soft click.
Inside the narrow cavity sat a book wrapped in oilcloth.
Red leather showed beneath it.
My breath caught.
Victor didn't touch it immediately.
Eight years of death had collected around that object.
My father's.
His father's.
Maybe ours now.
I reached in and lifted it free.
The ledger was heavier than I expected.
The leather was cracked with age. No title appeared on the cover.
I opened the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Handwritten notes in two different inks.
I recognized my father's handwriting immediately.
Victor recognized the other.
"My father," he whispered.
My mother exhaled shakily.
"They really did it."
Victor turned pages.
Some names were crossed out. Others were circled. Beside several entries, my father had written VERIFIED.
Then Victor stopped.
His expression hardened.
I looked over his arm.
SALVATORE C. — unauthorized transfers, coercion, contract killings concealed as external actions.
Below it were dates.
One matched the week my father died.
Another matched the day Marco Castellano died.
My hands went cold.
"This proves it."
"It proves enough to start a war," my mother said.
Victor closed the book.
"The war already started."
A slow clap echoed from the main sanctuary.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Victor moved in front of me.
My mother drew her gun.
Salvatore Castellano stepped through the chapel screen.
He looked nothing like a monster.
That was the first thing I noticed.
He was in his early sixties, silver-haired, elegant, wearing a charcoal suit and a dark overcoat beaded with rain. His face was calm, almost paternal.
Darius Kane stood behind him.
The giant's thigh was bandaged beneath his trousers, but he was upright.
Four armed men followed.
"Victor," Salvatore said. "You always did inherit Marco's taste for dramatic locations."
Victor's voice went flat.
"And you inherited nothing, so you stole everything."
Salvatore smiled.
"Your father said things like that too. Usually right before making expensive mistakes."
My mother raised her gun higher.
"Stay back."
Salvatore's eyes moved to her.
"Eleanor. Eight years pretending to be dead, and somehow you're still impatient."
My mother's hand shook.
Not much.
Enough for me to see.
"You murdered Thomas."
"No."
Salvatore glanced toward Darius.
"He did."
The giant did not react.
I stared at him.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Darius met my eyes.
No apology.
No shame.
Just recognition.
"Why?" I asked.
Salvatore answered for him.
"Because your father was stubborn. He believed information gave weak men power over strong ones."
"He was stronger than you ever were."
The smile faded from Salvatore's face.
For the first time, I saw something real underneath the polished surface.
Hatred.
Victor held the ledger beneath one arm.
"You killed Marco too."
Salvatore looked almost offended.
"Your father forced my hand."
"That's what cowards say when they want murder to sound inevitable."
Salvatore's gaze hardened.
"Your father was going to destroy everything our family built."
"No. He was going to destroy you."
Silence filled the chapel.
Then Salvatore smiled again.
"Give me the ledger."
Victor didn't move.
"No."
"Then Darius kills the girl first."
Darius stepped forward.
My mother moved between us.
Salvatore sighed.
"Eleanor, we tried this eight years ago. You remember how it ended."
Something in my mother's face changed.
I looked at her.
"What does he mean?"
"Nothing."
Salvatore's smile sharpened.
"She never told you?"
"Shut up," my mother whispered.
"Lily deserves the truth. She seems very committed to it."
I felt Victor tense beside me.
"Salvatore," he warned.
But Salvatore was enjoying himself now.
"The night Thomas died, your mother called me."
My stomach dropped.
I looked at her.
"Mom?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"Lily—"
"She told me where he would be," Salvatore said. "Alone. After midnight."
The church disappeared around me.
"No."
My mother took one step toward me.
"He had you."
My breath stopped.
"What?"
"Salvatore's men took you from your aunt's house for forty-three minutes."
I remembered nothing.
Nothing.
"They drugged you," she said. "You woke up in your own bed the next morning. You thought you'd been sick."
My knees weakened.
Salvatore continued calmly.
"I asked Eleanor a simple question. Thomas or Lily."
My mother began crying.
"I chose you."
The words broke me more completely than any lie she had told before.
"You gave him Dad."
"I thought they would arrest him, scare him, take the book. Salvatore promised—"
Salvatore laughed softly.
"Never trust promises made by desperate men or frightened women."
Victor moved so fast I barely saw it.
He crossed the space between them and hit Salvatore hard enough to send him into the chapel rail.
Every weapon came up.
Darius seized Victor from behind.
Victor drove an elbow backward, but Darius barely moved.
I heard Adrian shouting from the sanctuary.
Gunfire erupted outside the chapel.
My mother grabbed me and pulled me behind the stone altar.
Victor struggled against Darius.
Salvatore wiped blood from his mouth.
"Enough!"
The shooting stopped.
He pointed a gun at me.
Victor froze.
"Give me the ledger," Salvatore said, "or she dies in front of you."
Victor's eyes met mine.
I shook my head.
"Don't."
He looked at the red book.
Then at me.
Eight years of evidence.
His father's last chance at justice.
My father's last chance at justice.
The thing men had killed for.
Victor held it out.
"Take it."
My chest tightened.
"Victor—"
"Take it," he repeated.
Darius released him long enough for Salvatore to approach.
Salvatore took the ledger.
He looked almost disappointed.
"Your father would be ashamed."
Victor's gray eyes never left mine.
"My father is dead. Lily isn't."
Something inside me changed forever.
Salvatore tucked the ledger beneath his coat.
Then he nodded toward Darius.
"Kill him."
My mother fired first.
The bullet struck the stone beside Darius, forcing him back.
Adrian charged through the chapel door with one of Victor's men.
Chaos exploded.
Victor grabbed me.
"Move!"
We ran through a side passage behind the altar.
My mother followed for three steps.
Then someone caught her coat.
I heard her scream.
I turned.
Darius had one enormous hand around her arm.
"Mom!"
I lunged back.
Victor caught me around the waist.
"No!"
"Let me go!"
My mother fought Darius, striking his injured leg.
He dropped to one knee, but another man seized her.
Salvatore raised his gun toward us.
Victor dragged me through the door as a bullet struck the frame.
We ran into the rain.
Adrian covered the alley while Victor pushed me into the car.
"My mother is in there!"
"I know."
"We can't leave her!"
"If we stay, Salvatore gets all three of us."
I hit Victor's chest.
"You gave him the ledger!"
"I know."
"My father died for that book!"
"And your mother will die if we don't get out of here long enough to think."
The car accelerated away from the church.
I looked back through the rear window.
Salvatore stood beneath the stone archway with the red ledger beneath his coat.
Beside him, Darius held my mother.
She was alive.
For now.
My phone buzzed before we reached the next block.
A message from an unknown number.
One photograph.
My mother tied to a chair.
Beneath it, six words.
BRING VICTOR TO ME BY MIDNIGHT.
I showed him.
Victor read it once.
Then he looked at me.
"He's not asking for the ledger anymore."
"Because he has it."
Victor's expression turned cold.
"No. Because the ledger was never the last thing he wanted."
"What does he want?"
Victor looked back toward the church disappearing behind us.
"The last person standing between him and the Castellano empire."
He meant himself.
May you like
And suddenly I understood the trade Salvatore intended to make.
My mother for Victor's life.
