Chapter 4 - The Debt of Sal Marcone
Two weeks into my employment, the storm hit home.
I arrived at my mother’s apartment in West Town around 9:00 PM after a light shift. When I turned onto Huron Street, my blood ran cold.
The front door of the brownstone had been kicked off its hinges. Inside, the living room was ransacked—cushions slashed open, floorboards pried up, and my mother’s collection of porcelain teacups smashed against the wall.
My younger brother, Noah, sat on the kitchen floor with a split lip and a bloodied nose, his hands tied behind his back with industrial zip-ties. My mother was huddled in the corner, sobbing hysterically.
"Noah!" I dropped my bag and sprinted across the ruined linoleum, kneeling beside him and tearing at the plastic ties with a kitchen paring knife. "What happened? Who did this?"
"Marcone," Noah wheezed, coughing into his shoulder. "He came with four guys. He said... he said paying the back rent wasn't enough. He said Dad left something behind before he died. An encrypted ledger."
I froze. "Dad was a junior accountant at a logistics firm. He died of a stroke six years ago!"
"Marcone said Dad stole ten million dollars in bearer bonds from Victor Rossi's organization," Noah wept. "He said if we don't hand over Dad's old safe-deposit box key by midnight, he’s going to burn this building with Mom inside."
Before I could process the terror, the roar of multiple high-powered engines echoed outside the street.
Three black SUVs pulled onto the sidewalk, tires screeching. The doors flew open, and eight men in tactical gear poured out, weapons drawn.
Leading them up the shattered front steps was Dominic Vance.
He stepped through the doorway, taking in the blood on Noah's face, the weeping mother, and the ruined apartment in a single, freezing glance. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Mateo," Dominic commanded, his voice deadly quiet. "Get the medical team upstairs. Secure Mrs. Bennett and the boy in the secondary safehouse."
He walked over to me, kneeling beside where I was holding Noah’s bruised head against my chest.
"Who touched your family, Daisy?" Dominic asked.
"Sal Marcone," I whispered, tears of rage finally breaking through my eyelashes. "He’s working for Victor Rossi. They think my father hid a ledger before he died."
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Dominic reached out, his gloved hand resting firmly on the back of my neck, pulling my forehead gently against his shoulder.
"Nobody touches what belongs under my roof," Dominic whispered. "Noah is safe. Your mother is safe. Now, you and I are going to have a conversation with Mr. Marcone."
