Chapter 8 - The Ghost from the PastTen years ago, Elena had been Lucas’s closest confidante, his partner in every sense of the word, before a rival syndicate blew her safehouse to atoms. Lucas had stood at her memorial, buried an empty casket, and sworn an oath of absolute vengeance that wiped out three families in a single week.
And now, she was standing in his rose garden, alive, breathing, and staring up at him with cold, calculating eyes.
Lucas vaulted over the balcony railing, dropping silently onto the grass below, his Glock still gripped tightly in his hand.
"Elena," his voice was a harsh, breathless whisper. "You're dead. I buried you."
Elena stepped out of the shadow of a marble trellis. A jagged scar ran down the side of her neck, disappearing into her collar, but the piercing green eyes were unmistakably hers.
"Not dead, Lucas," Elena said, her voice smooth as silk, carrying a sharp edge of bitterness. "Just... relocated. While you were busy building an empire and playing domestic hero with a stray cleaner and her brat."
Lucas froze. "How do you know about Emma?"
"I know everything about you, Lucas," Elena laughed softly, stepping closer. "I watched you soften. I watched the most ruthless boss in Boston turn into a suburban uncle for a little girl whose mother was sent by my new associates."
Lucas’s blood ran cold. The pieces rearranged themselves in his mind with terrifying clarity. Marcus Vance hadn't acted alone. Vance was just a pawn in a much larger, more sophisticated game.
"You," Lucas said, leveling the Glock straight at her chest. "You engineered the bomb under my car. You used Clara to get to me."
Elena didn't flinch. She spread her arms wide, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "I wanted to see if the monster I helped create still had teeth. Or if he had gone soft, fat, and happy playing house."
"You used a child," Lucas growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You knew Emma would walk through that gate."
"I knew nothing of the sort," Elena snapped back, her eyes flashing with genuine anger. "Vance improvised. But when I saw you take them in... when I saw you endanger your entire criminal syndicate for a penniless maid... I knew you were no longer fit to rule."
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Suddenly, the red laser dots of a dozen sniper rifles painted Lucas’s chest from the surrounding treeline.
"Drop the gun, Lucas," Elena whispered. "The new era of the Blackwood syndicate begins tonight."
