Chapter 2 - THE FIRST LINE WAS A DEATH SENTENCE
“Hannah.”
Her voice barely carried across the table.
Vincent studied her.
“Hannah what?”
She hesitated.
“Cole.”
Raymond Pike smiled.
“Another Cole. What are the odds?”
Hannah didn't smile.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Tell me something, Miss Cole. Why did you look at that journal like you recognized it?”
“I didn't.”
“You're a terrible liar.”
Her fingers tightened around the water pitcher.
“I'm just here to serve dinner.”
“And I'm offering ten million dollars.”
He pushed the journal toward the empty chair beside him.
“Sit.”
Hannah looked toward her manager.
The man immediately lowered his eyes.
No help there.
She approached the table.
Every step felt like walking toward a trap.
Vincent gestured toward the journal.
“Read.”
Hannah stared at the page.
The handwriting was familiar.
Not merely the cipher.
The way certain letters leaned forward.
The shortened marks above repeated words.
The tiny diagonal stroke her father always placed beneath dates.
Her pulse thundered.
“Where did you get this?”
Vincent's expression changed.
“That's an interesting question.”
Voric sat forward.
“She cannot possibly—”
“Be quiet,” Vincent said.
Hannah swallowed.
“I need to know where it came from.”
Vincent rested his elbows on the table.
“Translate one line, and I'll answer.”
She looked down.
The first sentence used three separate layers of substitution.
Her father had taught her to read the final layer first.
She whispered the words silently.
Then looked up.
“It says…”
She stopped.
Raymond Pike's smile disappeared.
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Finish.”
Hannah's voice trembled.
“The man sitting at the right hand of the king has already sold him to the wolves.”
Silence.
Then every armed man in the room reached toward his weapon.
Cole Mercer moved first.
“Hands where I can see them!”
Chairs scraped backward.
Voric's associates stood.
Vincent remained seated.
His gaze moved slowly toward Raymond Pike.
Raymond's face was perfectly still.
“That's a convenient translation,” Raymond said.
Hannah looked at him.
Something in his voice made her skin crawl.
Vincent spoke quietly.
“Miss Cole. Is there more?”
She nodded.
“The next sentence says the betrayal will happen before the final toast.”
A glass shattered.
One of Voric's men had knocked it from the table.
Cole Mercer drew his gun but kept it pointed downward.
“Nobody moves.”
Vincent looked toward the door.
“Secure the exits. Nobody is to be harmed unless they present a threat.”
The guards obeyed.
Raymond laughed.
“Vincent, you're not seriously trusting a waitress over me.”
Vincent didn't answer.
He looked at Hannah.
“Read the next line.”
She lowered her eyes.
The writing blurred.
Then she saw the final words.
Her father's handwriting.
His unmistakable mark.
And a name.
She whispered, “Raymond Pike.”
The room erupted.
Raymond lunged from his chair.
Cole Mercer stepped between him and Vincent.
Voric shouted something in Serbian.
Hannah stumbled backward.
Then a gunshot cracked through the room.
The chandelier trembled.
Someone screamed.
And Vincent Hale grabbed Hannah by the wrist, pulling her behind the marble service counter.
“Stay down!”
She crouched beside him.
Her ears rang.
“You promised ten million dollars,” she whispered.
Vincent stared at her.
Even now, she couldn't stop herself.
“I translated it.”
May you like
For the first time that evening, the mafia boss looked genuinely surprised.
Then he said, “Miss Cole, if we survive the next five minutes, I'll pay you every cent.”
Related Stories
