Chapter 1 - The Weight of a VowThe hospital corridor smelled of bleach and cold steel, but to me, it smelled like blood.
My phone was still pressed against my ear. On the other end, Marcus—my most trusted lieutenant—was breathing heavily. The sound of muffled police radios and shouting filtered through the speaker.
“Boss,” Marcus said again, his voice cracking slightly. “You need to see what they found down here.”
“Speak, Marcus,” I commanded, my voice dropping into that low, frost-bitten register that usually made grown men drop their weapons.
“It’s not just a basement, Boss. It’s a cage. Iron bars bolted into the foundation. And… God, Thomas, there are markings on the walls. Tally marks. Dozens of them.”
My vision narrowed to a pinprick. My brother Ethan had spent his whole life trying to pull our family out of the gutter, trying to make sure his hands were clean when he raised those kids. He thought keeping them away from me was salvation. Instead, he handed them over to a monster in a suburban designer dress.
“Secure the perimeter,” I told Marcus, my voice dead. “Let the cops handle the house for now. If Rebecca tries to move, break her legs. Gently.”
“Understood.”
I hung up and walked back into the private hospital room.
Leo was lying on the bed, a heavy plaster cast encasing his small leg. His skin was translucent, bruised purple around his collarbones where someone had gripped him too hard. Maya was curled up beside him, fast asleep, clutching a juice box like it was a holy relic.
A nurse stepped out of the bathroom, shaking her head. “Mr. Moretti, the nutritional panel is horrific. They’ve been starved for months. Not just hungry—deprived. The little girl’s stomach lining is damaged.”
I didn't answer. I just walked over to the bed, pulled the sheet up to Leo’s chin, and placed my hand on his forehead. His skin was burning with a low-grade fever.
“Uncle Thomas?” Leo whispered, his eyes fluttering open. “Are we going back?”
“No,” I said, and the absolute finality in my voice made the nurse step back. “Nobody is ever touching you again. Sleep, Leo. Uncle's here.”
As his eyes drifted shut, I stepped out into the hallway and pulled out a second burner phone. I dialed a number I hadn't used in two years.
“Vance,” I said when the line connected.
“Well, well. The ghost of Austin,” a slick voice replied. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Thomas? I thought you retired from the board.”
“I need a prosecutor. Someone who hates dirty badges and doesn't care about jurisdiction. Rebecca Miller is about to be arrested. I want her buried under the prison so deep she forgets what the sun looks like.”
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“Rebecca?” Vance chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Ethan’s widow? The PTA president? Come on, Thomas, everyone loves her.”
“They won't by tonight,” I said, looking through the glass window at my sleeping nephew. “And Vance? If any judge in Travis County tries to grant her bail, let me know. I want to personally introduce them to my philosophy on family preservation.”
