Chapter 1 - THE REUNION ON MAPLE STREETThe autumn wind whipped through the branches of the old oak trees lining Maple Street, carrying the crisp scent of fallen leaves and woodsmoke.
Adrian Moretti sat in the back of a tinted black SUV parked three houses down from a modest, two-story colonial home with pale blue shutters. His left shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache beneath his tailored suit jacket—a constant, painful reminder of the bullet that had torn through his flesh less than a week ago.
In the front seat, Vincent kept his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. "Perimeter is secure, boss. Two units at the corner, one down the alley. Nobody gets within fifty feet of this block without us knowing."
Adrian didn't answer. His gaze was locked entirely on the front porch of the pale blue house.
The front door opened.
Sarah stepped out first, carrying a canvas tote bag, looking just as she had in the surveillance photos over the past three years—older, perhaps, with faint tired lines around her eyes, but possessing the same quiet, fierce grace that had made Adrian fall in love with her a lifetime ago before his world of blood and iron forced him to walk away.
And then, stepping out right behind her, wearing a bright yellow raincoat and matching rain boots, was Lily.
Adrian’s breath hitched in his throat. His heart—the same damaged, rebellious organ that Dr. Maren warned could stop at any second—skipped a violent beat.
She was six years old now. She had his dark, expressive eyes and Sarah’s brilliant smile. She was holding a crumpled piece of drawing paper in her small hand, chattering happily away to her mother about a butterfly she'd seen in the garden.
"Boss," Vincent said gently, breaking the heavy silence in the car. "Sarah agreed to talk. But she's alone inside. We cleared the schedule for the next hour."
May you like
Adrian slowly reached for the door handle. His palm was slick with nervous sweat. For three years, he had faced down rival syndicates, contract killers, and federal indictments without blinking. But stepping out of this car to face the woman he abandoned and the daughter who drew him without a face felt infinitely more terrifying than a hail of bullets.
"Wait here, Vincent," Adrian murmured, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the quiet suburban pavement.
