Chương 8 - The Commission
The rain began falling at dusk, a cold, miserable October drizzle that turned the streets of Philadelphia slick and dark.
Inside the mansion, the tension was suffocating.
Adrian had left at 8:00 PM in a convoy of three black armored SUVs, accompanied by Marcus and ten heavily armed men. Lily and I were left behind in the vast, quiet house, surrounded by thirty guards who patrolled the grounds with submachine guns hidden beneath their coats.
Lily couldn't sit still. She paced back and forth across the drawing room rug, her hands clenched into tight fists.
"He's walking into an ambush," she kept repeating, looking out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the dark gardens. "Moretti is a snake. He killed his own uncle to take control of his family. He doesn't respect the old rules."
"Your father isn't stupid, Lily," I said, trying to sound far more confident than I felt. I was sitting on the leather sofa, holding an untouched cup of tea, my own stomach churning with anxiety. "He knew it was a trap before he even left. He has a plan."
"Plans fail when people bring guns to negotiations," she said bitterly.
Time crawled. 9:00 PM. 10:00 PM. 10:30 PM.
Every minute felt like an hour.
At 11:15 PM, the quiet of the estate was shattered by the sound of approaching engines.
Lily rushed to the window. Through the glass, we saw two SUVs tear through the iron gates at high speed, their tires screeching on the wet gravel driveway.
One of the vehicles was heavily damaged—its passenger side scraped and dented, bullet spiderwebs fracturing the thick glass of the rear windows.
"Dad!" Lily screamed, running toward the front hall.
I followed right behind her.
The heavy oak front doors swung open. Dominic and three other guards rushed inside, supporting a tall figure.
It was Adrian.
His coat was gone. His white shirt was torn at the shoulder, soaked in dark crimson blood. His face was pale, sweat glistening on his forehead, but his eyes were still burning with that terrifying, icy light.
"Dad!" Lily sobbed, throwing herself toward him.
"Stay back, Lily," Marcus ordered sternly, stepping in front of her. Marcus himself had a gash across his temple, blood trickling down his cheek. "He's taken a round to the shoulder. We need the medic. Now!"
The house erupted into chaos. Guards moved in tactical formations, taking up defensive positions at the windows. A private doctor, who was apparently kept on retainer for precisely these occasions, rushed down the hallway carrying a heavy medical kit.
They brought Adrian into the study, laying him down on the long leather sofa.
"Get her out of here," the doctor commanded, snapping on rubber gloves as he prepped a scalpel and bandages. "I need to remove the projectile and stop the bleeding."
Marcus grabbed Lily by the shoulder to pull her out of the room. She was hysterically weeping, struggling against his grip.
"No! Dad! Let me see him!"
"Lily, go with Dominic," Adrian gasped, his voice tight with agonizing pain. He looked past his weeping daughter, his eyes locking onto me. "Clare... please."
I knew what he needed. He needed his daughter safe, away from the blood and the gore of his violent reality.
I stepped forward, grabbing Lily by both hands. "Lily. Look at me. Look at Clare."
She turned her tear-streaked face to me.
"Your dad needs the doctor to work," I said, keeping my voice as steady as steel. "We need to let him do his job. Come on. We're going to the kitchen. We're going to make tea, and we're going to wait."
"Clare, he's bleeding—"
"He's alive," I said fiercely, squeezing her hands. "He's tough, he's stubborn, and he isn't going anywhere. Now come with me."
Reluctantly, Lily allowed me to pull her out of the study, closing the heavy wooden doors behind us, shutting out the sight of the blood.
In the kitchen, I didn't make tea. My hands were shaking too violently. Instead, I sat with Lily at the butcher-block table, holding her tight while she cried into my shoulder.
Outside, the rain pounded against the windowpanes.
An hour passed. Then two.
At 1:30 AM, the study door finally opened.
The doctor walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. He looked exhausted, but he nodded to Marcus. "The bullet passed through the deltoid without hitting the main artery or breaking the bone. I've stitched the muscle and closed the wound. He lost a lot of blood, but he will survive."
Lily let out a ragged sob of relief.
May you like
"Can I see him?" she asked.
"He's awake," the doctor said. "He's asking for both of you."
