Chapter 4 - The Breadcrumbs Across Rain-Drenched Pennsylvania Backroads
Lorenzo gasped for air, his eyes bulging under Dominic’s suffocating grip.
“Route... Route 30!” Lorenzo choked out. “Moretti sent four cars to box her
minivan in near Lancaster! They weren’t supposed to kill the kid... just use her
to force you to sign over the ports!”
Dominic shoved Lorenzo backward into Marco’s waiting grip.
“Lock him in the cellar,” Dominic commanded Marco. “Strip his phones, his
trackers, everything. If a single word leaves this compound, you will answer for
it.”
“Understood, boss,” Marco said grimly. “What about the girl?”
“Get the convoy ready. Black SUVs. Full combat gear. We move now.”
Within four minutes, three armored Cadillac Escalades roared out of the iron
gates of the Valente estate, tearing through the rain-slicked highways at over a
hundred miles per hour. Dominic sat in the front passenger seat of the lead
vehicle, Sophie’s colored pencil drawing gripped tightly in his leather-gloved
hand.
He stared out into the dark storm. For four years, Clara had been an invisible
ghost in his life. She had arrived on a stormy night four years ago, pregnant,
bruised, and begging for a simple cleaning job. Dominic had given her shelter
without asking questions. She had never asked him for money, never asked about
the armed guards, never flinched at the blood on his cuffs.
She had protected him with silent, selfless devotion.
“GPS tracking on her old minivan pinged near an abandoned motel off Route 30
twenty minutes ago,” the driver announced. “The tracker went dead right after.”
May you like
“Step on it,” Dominic said, cocking his custom .45 pistol. “If they’ve laid a
finger on either of them, Lancaster will burn to the ground.”
