Chapter 12 - The Black Velvet Gift
The following Tuesday, Paige came home from school early, her face pale and her hands trembling. She dropped a small courier package onto the dining room table. It had no return address, no shipping label, and had been delivered directly to her locker during third period.
I pulled on tactical gloves and carefully opened the box. Inside, resting on a bed of crushed black velvet, was a solid silver miniature replica of a lug wrench. Wrapped around the handle was a handwritten note inscribed in elegant cursive: The curtains may close, but the theater still belongs to us. Tell your father that debts paid in court are not debts settled in blood.
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An hour later, state police vehicle sweeps revealed that two unidentified black SUVs had been idling near Paige’s high school and Anna’s physical therapy center for three consecutive days. The Higgins family was behind bars, but the syndicate they served was now moving in to finish what Luke and Reid had started.
I called my former reconnaissance team. "Pack your gear," I told them. "The war isn't over."
