Chapter 9 - The Order Signed in Blood
The explosion shattered windows three blocks away.
Bridget screamed her mother’s name before the vehicle stopped.
She opened the door while it was still moving.
Dominique caught her coat.
“No!”
“My mother!”
Rafael pulled to the curb.
Smoke poured from the lower floors.
People ran into the street.
Bridget fought Dominique’s grip.
“Let me go!”
“You’ll die.”
“She’s in there.”
“So is Sebastian.”
“I don’t care!”
She tore free.
Dominique followed.
Gabriel arrived seconds later.
Fire alarms screamed.
A doorman stumbled outside.
Bridget grabbed him.
“Apartment fourteen C. Margaret Collins.”
He coughed.
“Upper floors are intact.”
“Is she out?”
“I don’t know.”
Bridget ran toward the entrance.
A firefighter blocked her.
“You cannot go in.”
“My mother—”
“Ma’am.”
Dominique stepped beside her.
He looked at the firefighter.
“Fourteenth floor.”
“We’re evacuating.”
Dominique did something Bridget did not expect.
Nothing.
He did not threaten.
Did not use his name.
Did not push past.
He turned to Rafael.
“Service entrance.”
Bridget followed.
They entered through the loading dock.
Smoke filled the lower stairwell, but the blast had come from a utility room.
They climbed.
Dominique made it six floors.
Then stopped.
His hand pressed to his chest.
Bridget turned.
“No.”
“Go.”
“You’re coming.”
“Bridget.”
She saw pain in his face.
Real pain.
“Rafael.”
Rafael supported him.
“Get her mother.”
Bridget hated leaving him.
But she ran.
Fourteen floors.
Her lungs burned.
She reached the apartment.
Door open.
“Mom!”
No answer.
Living room empty.
Tea cups on the table.
Two.
Bathroom locked.
Bridget pounded.
“Mom!”
“Bridget?”
She almost collapsed.
“Open it.”
Margaret opened the door.
Bridget hugged her.
“Sebastian?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“Right before the explosion.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he say anything?”
Margaret hesitated.
“What?”
“He gave me this.”
An envelope.
Bridget opened it.
Inside was a copy of an execution authorization.
THOMAS COLLINS.
Below it was Salvatore Costello’s signature.
Her eyes blurred.
Margaret saw.
“What?”
Bridget folded it.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“We need to leave.”
They evacuated.
Outside, Dominique sat in an ambulance refusing transport.
Bridget approached.
He saw the paper in her hand.
His expression told her the document was real.
“You knew.”
“I knew Father signed something.”
“Something?”
“I never saw the order.”
“You told me he signed it.”
“Sebastian told me years later.”
“And you still protected your father.”
Dominique looked at the pavement.
“No.”
“You hid him.”
“I hid the fact he was alive.”
“That sounds like protecting him.”
“Bridget.”
She stepped back.
“Don’t.”
The hurt in her voice silenced him.
“My father trusted you.”
“I know.”
“He wrote your name in his final letter.”
“I know.”
“He thought you were better than them.”
Dominique stood with difficulty.
“I tried to be.”
“Tried?”
“I was twenty-six. My father told me Thomas betrayed the family. I argued against killing him.”
“But you failed.”
“Yes.”
The word landed hard.
“He died anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew your father had ordered it.”
“Years later.”
“Did you confront him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He told me Thomas’s death was necessary.”
“And?”
“I broke his jaw.”
Despite everything, Bridget blinked.
Dominique continued.
“I told him if he ever touched Thomas’s family, I’d burn everything he built.”
“Is that why you hired me?”
“No.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I didn’t know who you were when you started.”
“When did you learn?”
“Three weeks later.”
“And you kept me around because of guilt.”
“At first.”
“At first.”
Dominique looked at her.
“Then because you were the only person in my house who spoke to me like I was human.”
She hated what that did to her heart.
“This doesn’t fix anything.”
“I know.”
“My father is dead because of your family.”
“I know.”
“And now my mother almost died.”
“I know.”
She looked away.
Margaret approached.
“Bridget.”
“Mom, please.”
“No.”
Margaret looked at Dominique.
“You’re Salvatore’s son.”
“Yes.”
“You look like him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
She surprised them both by touching Bridget’s arm.
“Your father knew what family he worked for.”
“That doesn’t excuse murder.”
“No.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“But truth is usually uglier than the piece we want to hold.”
Bridget looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Thomas was not innocent in everything.”
Silence.
Margaret continued.
“He helped move money.”
“I know.”
“He helped hide people.”
Bridget stared.
“What people?”
“Witnesses. Sometimes criminals. Sometimes families in danger.”
Dominique frowned.
Margaret looked at him.
“Thomas and Salvatore built Vesper together.”
Bridget felt the world shift again.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You said Vesper was corrupted.”
“It was.”
“Dad created it?”
“Part of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because your father wanted you outside that life.”
Margaret looked at Dominique.
“And because Salvatore did not order Thomas’s death.”
Bridget held up the document.
“His signature is here.”
“Forged.”
Dominique stared.
“How do you know?”
“Because Thomas received that order two days before he died.”
Margaret took a breath.
“He brought it home.”
Bridget’s hands shook.
“What did he say?”
“He said somebody was trying to make him believe Salvatore wanted him dead.”
Dominique whispered, “Adrian.”
Margaret nodded.
“Thomas went to confront the real source.”
“Who?”
“He never came home.”
Bridget looked at the paper again.
Forgery.
Manipulation.
Everything had been designed to turn allies against one another.
“Sebastian wanted me to blame Dominique.”
“Yes,” Margaret said.
A paramedic approached.
“We need to move.”
Dominique’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered on speaker.
Sebastian Vane.
“You survived.”
Dominique’s voice hardened.
“You missed.”
“I wasn’t aiming for Mrs. Collins.”
Bridget stared at the phone.
“What do you want?”
Sebastian laughed.
“Bridget still believes Adrian is the architect.”
“Isn’t he?”
“He is a servant.”
“Of Vesper?”
“Yes.”
“Who leads it?”
“You already met him.”
The call ended.
Bridget and Dominique stared at each other.
Gabriel arrived.
“What happened?”
Dominique said, “Sebastian says we’ve met the leader.”
Bridget thought through everyone.
Vale.
Adrian.
Salvatore.
Grant.
Eleanor.
Rafael.
Then her phone received a photograph.
A recent one.
Taken inside Dominique’s hospital room.
It showed Bridget asleep in the chair beside his bed.
Standing behind her was Dr. Eleanor Shaw.
On Eleanor’s hand was a silver ring with a black stone.
A bird engraved into it.
May you like
Bridget looked up.
And across the street, Eleanor Shaw was watching them.
