CHAPTER 5: THE SOUND OF THE SOUL
CHAPTER 5: THE SOUND OF THE SOUL
The click of the safety being disengaged on Zachary’s gun was the loudest sound in the warehouse. Marcus looked up, tears of pain and terror streaming down his face, his arrogant charm entirely shattered.
"Zach... please," Marcus whimpered, his voice cracking as he looked into the cold abyss of his brother’s gray eyes. "We're brothers. The same blood. Mom... Mom wouldn't want this."
"Sophia was my blood the moment she took my name," Zachary whispered, his voice completely devoid of mercy. "And Theo is my blood. You tried to turn my son into a ghost, Marcus. Now, you get to become one."
Zachary didn't hesitate. Bang.
The body fell heavily against the concrete floor, the blood spreading outward in a dark, silent halo beneath the industrial light. The capos around the table stood up, bowing their heads in absolute submission to the undisputed king of the Chicago underworld. Zachary didn't look back at his brother. He turned to his head security capo, Marco.
"Clean the warehouse," Zachary ordered coldly. "Hand Vincent Miller over to the Castellano family. Tell them he’s a gift from the Blackwoods—a mechanic who doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself. They’ll know what to do with him."
"Yes, Mr. Blackwood," Marco replied, bowing deeply.
Zachary drew a deep, ragged breath, the heavy weight of a six-month-old vengeance finally lifting from his shoulders. He walked out of the warehouse into the freezing Chicago night, his mind already racing back to the fortress on the lake, back to the two children who were waiting for him.
When Zachary returned to Blackwood Manor at midnight, the house was entirely quiet. The heavy security gates opened smoothly, and the black SUV crawled up the driveway. He walked into the grand foyer, removing his leather jacket, which still smelled faintly of gunpowder and rain.
He walked up the grand staircase, his steps light, not wanting to wake the children. He pushed open the heavy double doors of Theo’s bedroom.
The sight that met him made the most feared man in Chicago stop in his tracks, a powerful, tight knot forming in his throat.
A warm fire was crackling softly in the hearth, casting an amber, dancing light across the room. Ruby and Theo weren't in their separate beds. They were both sitting on the large plush rug in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a single, massive cashmere blanket. Theo was leaning his head against Ruby's shoulder, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and peaceful.
Ruby was awake. Her green eyes looked up as Zachary walked in. She didn't flinch this time. She didn't look for a door to run through. She looked at his face, saw the quiet, heavy peace in his gray eyes, and she knew the monster had been defeated.
"Is it over?" Ruby whispered softly, so as not to wake the sleeping boy.
"It's over, Ruby," Zachary said, walking into the room and sitting cross-legged on the rug beside them, completely discarding his terrifying mafia patriarch persona. He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his son’s forehead. "The monsters are gone. They’re never coming back."
Theo stirred slightly at the sound of his father’s voice. He opened his dark eyes, blinking against the warm firelight. He looked at Zachary, then he looked at Ruby.
Slowly, impossibly, Theo’s lips opened.
"Ruby... sang," Theo said.
The voice was small, raspy, and cracked from six months of absolute silence, but to Zachary, it was the most beautiful symphony he had ever heard in his entire life. A single, hot tear escaped Zachary’s gray eyes, tracking down his rugged cheek before he could stop it.
"She did, buddy," Zachary choked out, pulling both Theo and Ruby into his massive, protective arms, wrapping the cashmere blanket around all three of them. "She sang the dark away."
Theo wrapped his small arms around his father’s neck, his face burying into Zachary’s shoulder. And then, he reached his other hand out, grabbing the hem of Ruby’s lavender pajamas, pulling her into the center of the family embrace.
Ruby sat in the middle of the warmth. For the first time in three long, brutal years, her survival instincts went completely silent. She didn't feel the need to look for an exit. She didn't feel the cold wind off Lake Michigan. She looked at the giant man who was holding her like she was made of gold, and she looked at the little boy who was smiling at her through his tears.
She let go of the silver button in her pocket.
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She didn't need it to remember her mother anymore. Because here, inside this fortress, surrounded by a father and a son who had been broken and remade by her voice, Ruby Miller had finally found something she thought she would never have again.
A home.
