Chapter 2
Victor placed the handful of colored pencils back onto the yellow vinyl table with a humiliating clatter.
He stepped back, his jaw tight with repressed fury, but he kept his eyes pinned to the floor.
Silas did not dismiss him.
Instead, the crime lord’s attention was completely captivated by the table in booth number six.
He wasn't looking at the messy scribbles of the purple moon or the green castle.
His dead eyes were locked on the tarnished brass skeleton key resting on the paper placemat.
"Where did you get that?" Silas asked, his voice suddenly sharp, a dangerous edge bleeding into the calm.
Nora instinctively pushed Lily further behind her back, her breathing shallow and frantic.
"It was her father's," Nora whispered, refusing to break eye contact with the monster in front of her.
"He passed away four years ago."
Silas reached out, his long, pale fingers hovering over the heavy brass key.
He didn't touch it, but the proximity sent a visible shiver down Nora’s spine.
"Arthur Hayes," Silas murmured, speaking the name like a ghost summoned from the grave.
Nora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer horror.
"How do you know that name?" she demanded, terror warring with sudden, desperate curiosity.
Silas finally pulled his hand back, sliding it into the pocket of his ruined trench coat.
"Arthur was an independent contractor who drove getaway cars for very bad men," Silas stated plainly.
"He drove for me on the night I lost everything."
The revelation hung in the diner air, heavier than the stench of stale grease and ammonia.
Nora had spent four years running from the shadows her husband had left behind.
Now, the darkest shadow of them all was standing in her diner.
Silas looked at the brass key one last time before his eyes hardened into obsidian glass.
May you like
"Lock the front door, Nora," Silas ordered, turning his back to the windows.
"We have company."
