Chapter 12
Nora didn't take the stack of cash.
Instead, she grabbed Silas’s bloody hand and squeezed it tightly.
"If we go with you, I am not raising my daughter in a mob house," Nora stated firmly, laying down her terms.
"She goes to a private school. She gets a normal life."
"And you never, ever lie to me about the danger we are in."
Silas looked at the fragile, exhausted waitress and saw a spine forged of pure titanium.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, the first genuine expression he had worn in eight years.
"Deal," Silas agreed.
He opened the heavy armored door of his personal SUV and gestured for them to get inside.
The leather seats were heated, and the quiet hum of the engine felt like a warm embrace after the nightmare in the sewer.
Victor climbed into the driver's seat, looking entirely out of place covered in mud and blood.
He looked back through the rearview mirror at the little girl sitting behind him.
"I’m sorry about your colored pencils, kid," Victor grumbled awkwardly.
Lily looked at the giant enforcer, holding her tarnished brass key tightly.
"I forgive you, giant," Lily replied seriously.
"But you owe me a new box. With sixty-four colors."
Victor actually chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the vehicle.
"You got it, kid," Victor promised.
Silas sat in the passenger seat, staring out the reinforced glass as they drove away from the industrial district.
He watched the flashing red and blue sirens rushing toward the burning remains of the Midnight Grille.
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For the first time since his wife died, he didn't feel the suffocating, freezing weight of the dark.
He felt something entirely different.
