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The pressurized air of the cabin suddenly felt thick, heavy, and suffocating. My lungs burned as I fought the urge to grab Julie by her linen collar and force the rest of the truth out of her right there at thirty thousand feet. / Chapter 20 / 20

Chapter 20 - Sunrise Over ManhattanThe sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the Manhattan skyline in brilliant shades of amber, gold, and rose.

When I arrived back at the Williamsburg loft just after 6:00 AM, the apartment was warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso and toasted bagels.

Naomi was sitting at the kitchen island, wrapped in an oversized cashmere sweater, holding a steaming mug. When the front door unlocked, she stood up so fast her stool wobbled against the hardwood.

Her green eyes searched my face, scanning for blood, for injuries, for any sign of defeat.

"It's over," I said softly, stepping across the threshold and dropping my keys onto the entryway table. "Salvatore is gone. The federal task force has the entire leadership. We are finally, truly safe."

Naomi let out a ragged, shuddering breath, the tension of the last forty-eight hours draining out of her all at once. She crossed the room in three rapid strides and threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder as she began to cry—not with fear, but with an overwhelming, absolute relief.

I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, burying my face in her dark curls, holding her as if letting go would make the last few months vanish into a dream.

From the hallway upstairs, the pitter-patter of tiny patent-leather shoes echoed down the steps.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Lily’s sleepy voice called out as she rubbed her eyes, dragging her stuffed rabbit behind her. "Is it morning time?"

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The heavy oak door of the master suite swung wider, letting out a sharp draft of chilled air that smelled faintly of expensive bourbon and cold rain. Lorenzo Moretti did not blink.

The heavy oak door of the master suite swung wider, letting out a sharp...

The rain in the lower district did not fall; it drifted like smoke, slicking the asphalt and carrying the smell of coal smoke and rotting citrus from the wholesale market two blocks down.

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The word mother hung in the sterile terminal air like a frozen dagger.

The word mother hung in the sterile terminal air like a frozen dagger.

Naomi pulled back, wiping a tear from her cheek with a radiant, genuine smile, and held out her hand to our daughter.

"Come here, sweetie," Naomi whispered, looking up at me with storm-gray eyes that mirrored our daughter's. "Your daddy just brought us home."

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