Chapter 1 - The Tag in the Pocket
Gabriel leaned down toward five-year-old Lucy, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man whose name struck terror across Chicago’s underground. "Bells ask who is listening, little one. And sometimes... who is pretending not to hear."
Before Lucy could reply, heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. Evelyn quickly tucked brass tag number seventeen deep into her apron pocket, her heart pounding against her ribs.
The chapel doors swung open. Standing in the entrance was Aunt Margaret Ashford, her sharp posture and cold grey eyes sweeping over the room like a hawk searching for prey. Beside her stood Marcus Delaney—the ruthless representative of the rival Delaney syndicate—and Walter Pike, the steward who had tried to force the candle delivery earlier that morning.
"Evelyn," Margaret said, her tone dripping with quiet venom. "What are you doing skulking near the altar rails?"
Evelyn stood up straight, smoothing her apron, her face an unreadable mask of polite servitude. "Checking the heating grate, ma'am. The storm is driving cold air beneath the foundation."
Margaret’s eyes narrowed slightly, lingering on the antique service panel behind the altar. "Leave us. The family council is about to convene. We have urgent matters regarding my nephew’s... tragic absence."
"Yes, ma'am," Evelyn murmured. She took Lucy by the hand and walked calmly toward the side exit.
May you like
As she crossed the threshold, she felt the heavy weight of brass tag seventeen in her pocket. Beneath her feet, far down in the dark, flooded stone chamber, Gabriel Ashford was waiting. He had warned her that someone had already listened to the bell.
And looking back at Margaret’s calm, unbothered expression, Evelyn realized with sickening clarity: the person who had answered Gabriel's signal wasn't a savior. It was his executioner.
