Chapter 2 - THE GLASS WINDOW
Roman didn’t shout.
He didn’t pull a weapon.
He simply turned his head toward the front window of my bakery. The movement was so smooth, so terrifyingly calm, that the air in the room felt instantly heavier.
Outside, morning traffic crawled along the Chicago pavement. Pedestrians hurried past, clutching coffee cups and pulling their coats tight against the wind. It looked completely normal.
It wasn’t.
Someone out there was hunting them.
“Get away from the glass,” Roman said.
His voice didn’t rise above a conversational volume, but the absolute authority in it made Lily scramble backward. She hit the edge of the prep counter, her breathing hitching into jagged little gasps.
Roman stepped between Lily and the window, his broad shoulders completely shielding her. He didn’t look at me, but his hand moved to his ear.
“Lock it down,” he said into an invisible earpiece. “All exits. Now.”
Before I could even process the command, the two men in dark suits who had been standing on the opposite street corner suddenly moved. One stepped directly in front of Honey & Rye’s glass door, facing outward. The other vanished down the side alley.
I stood by the espresso machine, a damp towel completely forgotten in my hand.
“Roman,” I started, keeping my voice low. “Who sent that?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the phone screen, staring at the six words that had just shattered his niece’s world.
TELL ROMAN HIS SISTER IS ALIVE.
Lily buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling under the oversized sweatshirt. “She’s dead. She died in the fire. I saw the house burn.”
Roman finally turned to her. The cold, dangerous mask slipped, replaced by an agony so raw I had to look away. He gently took Lily’s arms, pulling her hands away from her face.
“Lily, look at me.”
She shook her head violently.
“Look at me.” His voice was a lifeline, thick with a desperate kind of love. “If Elena is alive, I will find her. But you need to tell me how you got this phone.”
Lily sniffled, refusing to meet his eyes. “I found it. In Aunt Sophia’s purse.”
Roman went completely still.
My heart did a painful stutter in my chest. Sophia. The same aunt who had gleefully played along with the fake girlfriend story. The woman Roman trusted enough to let inside his home.
“When?” Roman asked softly.
“Three days ago,” Lily whispered. “It was ringing. I thought it was her normal phone, so I pulled it out. But it was an old flip phone. Mom’s old phone. The one she lost a week before… before the fire.”
Roman released Lily’s arms and took a step back. The implications were suffocating. If Sophia had Elena’s phone, she knew more about the fire than she ever admitted.
Before Roman could speak, the heavy bell above my bakery door chimed loudly.
We all jumped.
Roman’s guard stepped inside, holding something wrapped in a white linen napkin. He didn’t look at me or Lily. He walked straight to Roman.
“Boss,” the guard said, his voice tight. “We didn’t find the photographer. They slipped into the subway. But they left this on the window ledge. Right where Lily was standing.”
The guard pulled back the linen.
Resting in the center of the white cloth was a silver rosary.
It was old, tarnished black in the crevices, with a heavy, distinctly worn crucifix. The beads were made of dark onyx, but three of them near the center were cracked.
Roman stared at it, the color completely draining from his face.
“It’s hers,” he whispered, reaching out to touch the heavy silver cross. “My father gave this to Elena the day she graduated. She never took it off.”
He looked at his guard. “Who left this?”
“We couldn’t see the face,” the guard replied. “Tall. Dark coat. Walked with a heavy limp.”
I stared at the rosary.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew that limp. I knew that dark coat. And I knew exactly who owned that silver rosary.
“Roman,” I said, my voice shaking so hard it cracked.
May you like
He turned to me, his eyes dark with violence. “What?”
I pointed a trembling finger at the tarnished silver beads. “That doesn’t belong to your sister. It belongs to Leo. He comes in here every Tuesday at 6 AM. And he was standing right outside that window ten minutes ago.”
