Chapter 3 - The Safehouse in the Sky
Before Elena could protest, the kitchen doors opened, and one of Marco’s quiet men—the one he had called Frank over the phone—stepped into the room. He was a mountain of a man with a broken nose and eyes that looked like they had seen every dark corner of human nature.
“Mr. Valentine, the car is out front,” Frank said.
“Frank, take Elena to the apartment on Park Avenue,” Marco commanded. “Then go to the address in Queens. Pick up her daughter, Sonia. Bring Mrs. Chen along if she refuses to let the girl go without an explanation, but get them both out of that building before midnight.”
“Wait, no!” Elena stepped forward, her maternal instincts overriding her fear of the mafia boss. “You can't just take my daughter! She’ll be terrified! Let me go with Frank. I’ll pack our things.”
Marco stopped at the threshold of the room, turning back to look at her. The amber light of the chandelier caught the sharp angles of his jaw. “Elena, Thomas Brennan has crew members who handle his wet work. If they are already watching your apartment, you walking in there is a death sentence. Frank knows how to clear a building. You stay with me.”
“With you?” Elena whispered.
“You saved my life tonight,” Marco said, his voice dropping into a quiet, solemn promise. “In my world, that means your life belongs to my protection. I don’t leave debts unpaid.”
Ten minutes later, Elena found herself in the back of a black, armored Cadillac Escalade, sitting across from Marco Valentine. The city blurred past the tinted windows in a smear of neon red and yellow. The silence inside the vehicle was heavy, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the steady wiping of the windshield blades.
Elena clutched her worn canvas purse against her chest, the stack of hundred-dollar bills resting inside like a heavy brick. She felt like she had stepped off the edge of her ordinary, difficult life and fallen into a parallel universe where the rules of survival were completely different.
The car pulled into the underground garage of a luxury high-rise on Park Avenue. The security gates opened automatically, closing swiftly behind them like the jaws of a trap. Marco led her to a private elevator that required a biometric fingerprint scan to activate.
The elevator rose silently, ascending forty floors before the doors slid open directly into a penthouse apartment that took Elena’s breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline, the lights of Central Park stretching out below them like a field of fallen stars. The floors were polished white marble, the furniture minimalist and expensive, but the place felt completely cold—like a museum where no one actually lived.
“Sit,” Marco said, gesturing toward a large gray leather sofa. “Frank will be here with your daughter within forty-five minutes.”
Elena sat on the edge of the cushions, unable to relax. She watched Marco walk over to a wet bar in the corner. He poured himself two fingers of scotch, took a slow drink, and then leaned against the counter, staring at her through the gloom.
“You’re shaking,” he observed.
“I’ve never had federal-grade security guards kidnap my daughter for her own safety before,” Elena replied, a touch of her native Queens sarcasm slipping through her terror.
A small, genuine smile touched Marco’s lips—the first real emotion she had seen from him all night. “Frank isn't federal-grade. He’s much better. He used to be Special Forces before he realized the government doesn't pay enough to cover the cost of a good conscience.”
He walked over and handed her a glass of water—pure, clean water in a crystal tumbler. Elena looked at it, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat.
/“The irony isn't lost on me,” she murmured, taking the glass.
“Drink it,” Marco said softly. “You’ve had a harder night than I have.”
Just as she lifted the glass to her lips, Marco’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up, his expression instantly hardening back into the cold stone of the Valentine boss. He listened for three seconds before speaking.
May you like
“Did you find them?” Marco asked.
The voice on the other end was loud enough for Elena to hear through the quiet room. It was Frank, his tone frantic and laced with static. “Mr. Valentine, we have a problem. Brennan’s men got to the Queens apartment five minutes before we did. Mrs. Chen is tied up in the hallway, but the girl... the girl isn't here. They took Sonia.”
