Chapter 3 - The Price of Mercy
Grace knew something was wrong when Marco’s driver ignored the third turn toward her apartment.
“Where are we going?”
The driver looked into the mirror.
“Alternate route.”
“Marco said you were taking me home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Grace looked behind them.
A black SUV had followed through three intersections.
She noticed it because one headlight was slightly dimmer than the other.
“Is someone following us?”
The driver did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Lucy slept in her car seat beside Grace.
Fear rose slowly through Grace’s chest.
She pulled out her phone.
Before she could call, the driver’s phone rang through the vehicle.
Marco’s voice filled the speakers.
“Grace.”
She had never heard anyone say her name like that.
Not angry.
Not frightened.
Both.
“Marco?”
“Listen carefully. Do exactly what the driver tells you.”
“What’s happening?”
“You’re being followed.”
“I noticed.”
“The vehicle behind you is not mine.”
Grace twisted toward the rear window.
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You told me I would be safe.”
“I know.”
“You told me—”
“I know.”
The crack in Marco’s voice stopped her.
He was blaming himself.
She understood that feeling too well.
“Where are you?”
“Two minutes away.”
The black SUV accelerated.
Marco’s driver cursed.
“Hold onto something.”
Grace wrapped one arm around Lucy’s car seat.
The vehicle turned sharply into a parking garage.
The SUV followed.
Tires screamed against concrete.
Grace’s heart hammered.
The driver raced upward.
Third level.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Then a second black sedan appeared from the opposite ramp.
For one terrifying second Grace thought they were trapped.
Then she saw Marco through the windshield.
He jumped from the sedan before it fully stopped.
Another vehicle blocked the pursuing SUV.
Men poured out.
Everything happened fast.
Too fast.
Marco yanked open Grace’s rear door.
“Come with me.”
She clutched Lucy.
“What—”
“Now.”
Grace climbed out.
Marco placed his body between her and the SUV.
There was shouting behind him.
A crash.
Someone screamed.
Marco did not look back.
He pushed Grace toward his sedan.
“Get inside.”
“You?”
“I’m coming.”
A man ran toward them from between parked vehicles.
Grace saw the gun first.
“Marco!”
Marco turned.
Two sharp sounds echoed through the garage.
Marco moved instantly, dragging Grace down behind the car.
Lucy woke screaming.
Grace curled around her daughter.
Marco covered them both with his body.
Another shot struck metal.
Marco’s men returned fire.
Then silence.
Not true silence.
Lucy crying.
Grace gasping.
Marco breathing heavily.
Somewhere, a car alarm began wailing.
Marco lifted his head.
“Are you hit?”
Grace stared at him.
“What?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Lucy?”
“No.”
Marco closed his eyes for half a second.
When he opened them, the ruthless man Grace had glimpsed at the hospital was back.
He stood.
“Get them out.”
Luca ran over.
“Marco—”
“Take them to the house.”
Grace climbed to her feet.
“I’m not going to your house.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“They know who you are!”
“And whose fault is that?”
The words hit him hard.
Grace regretted them instantly.
But she was shaking, terrified, holding a crying baby in a parking garage where someone had just tried to shoot them.
Marco stared at her.
“Mine.”
No defense.
No argument.
Just mine.
His honesty disarmed her more effectively than anger would have.
He stepped closer.
“You helped Leo for ten minutes.”
His voice dropped.
“Ten minutes of kindness, and now someone has placed a target on you.”
Grace looked toward the blocked SUV.
“What do they want?”
“To hurt me.”
“Why?”
Marco hesitated.
“Because that’s how my world works.”
“Then maybe you should change your world.”
He almost laughed.
It was a bitter sound.
“That isn’t easy.”
“Neither is being shot at before breakfast.”
Marco looked at Lucy.
Then back at Grace.
“Come to my house until I know who they are.”
Grace wanted to refuse.
Every intelligent instinct told her to stay far away from Marco Castellano.
But her normal life had already been penetrated.
Someone knew her face.
Her name.
Maybe her address.
And whatever Marco was, he clearly understood danger better than she did.
“For one night,” she said.
“As long as necessary.”
“One night.”
“We’ll argue later.”
They argued forty minutes later.
Marco’s home was not a home.
It was a fortress disguised as an estate.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
Security cameras.
A driveway long enough to qualify as a private road.
Grace stood in the entry hall holding Lucy and stared at a chandelier larger than her kitchen.
“This is ridiculous.”
Marco removed his jacket.
“You’re safe.”
“This house has guards.”
“Yes.”
“With rifles.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t seem strange to you?”
“Not particularly.”
Grace stared.
Marco sighed.
“I’m aware it’s not normal.”
“That’s progress.”
His mouth almost moved into a smile.
A woman in her sixties approached.
“Marco.”
She stopped when she saw Grace and Lucy.
“Who is this?”
“A guest.”
The woman’s gaze became immediately suspicious.
“This is Teresa,” Marco explained. “She ran this house before I knew how to tie my shoes.”
“I still run this house,” Teresa said.
Marco inclined his head.
Grace liked her instantly.
“And the baby?” Teresa asked.
“Lucy.”
Teresa’s expression softened.
“Oh.”
Within five minutes, Lucy had been taken from Grace’s arms voluntarily, praised in Italian, and carried toward the kitchen for something Teresa called “proper breakfast for the mother.”
Marco watched.
“You trusted her quickly.”
“She feels safe.”
“I’m offended.”
“You should be.”
They returned to the hospital later under heavy protection.
Leo’s condition remained stable.
Marco spent most of the day beside the incubator.
Grace intended only to visit.
She stayed six hours.
At some point, Marco fell asleep in a chair.
It was the first time she saw how exhausted he really was.
His head tilted back.
Arms crossed.
Tattooed hands resting over his chest.
Without the constant tension in his face, he looked younger.
Sad.
Grace noticed a small photograph protruding from his wallet on the table.
She should not have looked.
She did.
Marco, perhaps nineteen.
Elena beside him, maybe thirteen.
They stood outside a tiny brick apartment building.
Marco had his arm around her shoulders.
Elena was laughing.
Marco was not smiling for the camera.
He was smiling at her.
“You’re snooping.”
Grace jumped.
Marco’s eyes were open.
“I was not.”
“You were.”
“It was visible.”
“That’s what snoopers say.”
Grace picked up her coffee.
“She loved you.”
Marco stared toward Leo.
“Yes.”
“You loved her.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop acting like grief is a weakness.”
His eyes returned to her.
“In my world, anything someone can use against you is a weakness.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
The word came too quickly.
They both noticed.
Marco looked away.
Before Grace could respond, Luca entered.
“We identified one of the men from the garage.”
Marco stood.
“Who?”
“Victor Salerno.”
Marco’s expression changed.
Grace noticed immediately.
“You know him.”
“His father.”
“Who is his father?”
Marco did not answer.
Luca did.
“Dominic Salerno.”
Grace waited.
Marco finally said, “He wants what I have.”
“Your business?”
“My territory. My organization. Everything.”
“And Elena?”
Marco’s eyes darkened.
“Dominic knew she was my only family.”
Grace looked at Leo.
“No.”
“We don’t know whether he caused her death.”
“But you think he might have.”
Marco nodded once.
The possibility filled the room.
Grace hugged herself.
“What happens now?”
Marco looked at Luca.
“Find Dominic.”
Luca nodded.
Grace stepped between them.
“And then?”
Marco’s gaze hardened.
“That’s not something you need to know.”
“Meaning violence.”
“Meaning I protect my family.”
“Leo needs you alive.”
Marco froze.
Grace continued.
“He already lost his mother.”
“Grace—”
“If you go out looking for revenge and somebody puts a bullet in you, what happens to him?”
Marco’s jaw flexed.
“You don’t understand.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
She pointed toward the incubator.
“That baby does not need the most feared man in the city. He needs an uncle who comes home.”
Marco stared at her.
Nobody spoke to him like this.
Nobody dared.
Grace did because fear had become less important than the newborn behind the glass.
Marco looked at Leo for a long time.
Then he asked Luca, “What else?”
Luca hesitated.
“We found another photograph.”
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
“Of who?”
Luca handed him the phone.
It showed Grace entering her apartment building three days earlier.
Before she had ever met Marco.
Grace saw the date.
Her stomach dropped.
“That’s impossible.”
Marco stared at the photograph.
Then at her.
“Grace.”
“What?”
“If this picture was taken before last night…”
He did not finish.
He did not need to.
Grace had not become a target because she helped Leo.
Someone had been watching her already.
May you like
And suddenly the question was no longer why Dominic Salerno cared about Marco’s sister.
The question was why he cared about Grace Bennett.
