Chapter 5 - The Reckoning of Hearts
The silence that returned to the shattered safe house was deafening, broken only by the hiss of the SUV’s punctured radiator and the steady drip of rain through the holes in the ceiling.
Adrian stood amidst the carnage, his weapon lowering to his side. He looked at Elena, who was kneeling on the floor, her hands still pressed against her stomach, her hair covered in white plaster dust and dried blood. For the first time in his adult life, Adrian Vale felt an emotion that he could not control with logic or force.
Pure, unadulterated terror.
He dropped his gun. It clattered loudly against the ruined linoleum as he fell to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching out but hovering inches away from her skin, as if he were afraid his touch might cause her to shatter.
"Elena," he choked out. The name was a prayer, a plea for forgiveness that he knew he had no right to ask. "Elena... I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry."
Elena looked at him. She saw the blood splattered across his charcoal coat, the dirt on his face, and the raw, bleeding agony in his eyes. She didn't see the mafia boss who had ruled New York with an iron fist; she saw the broken boy from the streets who had built a wall so high he had trapped himself inside it.
"You found it," she said. It wasn't a question. Her voice was flat, hollowed out by the sheer volume of trauma she had endured in the last four hours.
"I went to your room," Adrian whispered, a single tear cutting through the soot on his cheek. "I found the envelope. The test. The clinic card." He finally pressed his hands against her waist, pulling her gently toward him until her forehead rested against his chest. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me before I... before I did that to you?"
"Because you had already chosen the folder, Adrian," Elena said, her shoulders finally shaking as the shock began to wear off, replaced by a deep, wrenching sob. "You stood there and looked at pieces of paper and decided that four years of marriage meant nothing compared to a bank routing number. If I told you about the baby then, you would have thought I was using our child as a shield to hide my treason. I couldn't let you look at our baby with the same suspicion you used to look at me."
Adrian buried his face in her dark hair, his massive shoulders heaving as he wept. He had held men as they died, he had watched his own flesh and blood burn, but nothing had ever broken him like the realization that his own paranoia had nearly killed the only pure thing he had ever touched.
"It was Grant," Adrian said through his teeth, his voice a mixture of grief and an unholy desire for vengeance. "Grant and Roland. They forged the notes. They funneled the money. They gave the route to the Morettis because they wanted to remove you so they could take the family."
Elena pulled back slightly, her eyes widening as she looked around the kitchen. "Clara... she helped me. She kept me safe."
Adrian looked over at the woman lying near the stove. He crawled over, pressing two fingers to Clara’s neck. He felt a faint, thready pulse. "She’s alive. Enforcers! Get the medical transport up here now! Put her in the private clinic in Brookline under maximum security. Give her whatever she needs."
He turned back to Elena, scooping her up into his arms with a protective strength that left no room for argument. She was light, too light, her body exhausted from the ordeal.
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"Where are we going?" she asked, her eyes closing against his shoulder as he carried her toward the back of the SUV.
"To a place where the Vales don't exist," Adrian said, his face hardening as he looked back at the dead bodies on the floor. "But first, I have one last piece of business to settle in Rhode Island. I’m going to cut the rot out of my house once and for all."
