THE HONEY AND RYE BAKER

The air in the terminal seemed to completely vaporize.

Roman stepped in front of Lily, his broad back forming an impenetrable wall between his niece and the black Mercedes. His hand didn’t hover over his coat; it slid smoothly inside, resting on the grip of his weapon.

“Drive away, Sophia,” Roman said. His voice echoed through the concrete loading zone—hollow, deadly, and entirely stripped of familial warmth.

Aunt Sophia didn’t flinch. She adjusted the silk scarf at her neck, her perfectly manicured fingers completely steady.

“Don’t be dramatic, Roman,” she sighed, as if she were reprimanding him for missing Sunday dinner. “You don’t have the full picture. I’m doing what’s best for this family. I always have.”

“By handing my niece over to Marcus?” Roman’s jaw was tight enough to crack bone. “The man who beat her mother half to death? The man who set the fire?”

Sophia laughed, a dry, brittle sound that made my skin crawl. “Oh, Roman. You were always so blind when it came to Elena. Marcus didn’t set that fire.”

She tilted her head, locking eyes with Lily, who was trembling against my side.

“Did he, Lily?” Sophia pressed, her voice dripping with poison.

Lily buried her face in my shoulder, a broken sob tearing from her throat. “Stop,” she begged. “Please.”

“Tell him, Lily,” Sophia commanded cruelly. “Tell your beloved uncle who struck the match.”

Roman froze. He looked back at Lily, his dark eyes wide with sudden, horrifying confusion. “Lily? What is she talking about?”

Lily couldn’t speak. She was shaking so violently I had to wrap both arms around her to keep her upright.

“I’ll tell you,” Sophia sneered. “Elena was weak. She was going to leave Marcus and take the money. Marcus found out. They fought. He locked Elena in the basement to teach her a lesson. It was your precious niece who knocked over the kerosene heater trying to break the lock. Lily burned her own mother alive.”

“Shut up!” I yelled, the fury completely overriding my fear. I glared at the woman in the car. “She’s a child! How dare you!”

“It’s the truth,” Sophia said coldly. She looked back at Roman. “Marcus has Elena. She survived the fire, Roman. He’s kept her alive all these years, waiting for the Russo accounts to be unlocked. And now, he has the baker’s daughter. Give me Lily and the girl, and Marcus will let Elena go. It’s a trade.”

Roman didn’t move. He looked at the child’s drawing in his hand, then back at the woman who had helped raise him.

“You brokered the deal,” Roman realized, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Ten years ago. You told Marcus where Elena was hiding.”

“She was ruining this family!” Sophia snapped, dropping the sophisticated act. “She was going to take the money and run to Europe! We would have had nothing!”

“You are nothing,” Roman said.

He drew his weapon.

Sophia’s eyes widened in genuine shock. She hadn’t believed he would actually point a gun at her.

“Roman—”

“Drive away,” Roman repeated, leveling the barrel directly at her face. “Or I kill you where you sit.”

Sophia’s face twisted in pure, venomous hatred. She tapped the glass separating her from her driver.

The driver didn’t put the car in gear. Instead, the rear door swung open, and two heavily armed men stepped out of the Mercedes, raising automatic rifles.

“I’m taking the girls, Roman,” Sophia said.

Before anyone could blink, the deafening crack of a gunshot shattered the morning air.

It didn’t come from Roman.

The guard standing to Roman’s left jerked backward, blood spraying across the concrete pillar as he collapsed to the ground.

Panic erupted. Commuters screamed, diving for cover behind concrete benches and luggage carts.

“Down!” Roman roared, grabbing my arm and physically shoving me and Lily behind a thick structural column as a hail of bullets shredded the locker bank we had just been standing in front of.

Concrete dust exploded into the air, blinding and choking us. I covered Lily’s body with my own, pressing my hands over her ears as the deafening roar of automatic fire continued.

Roman leaned around the pillar, returning fire with terrifying precision. One of Sophia’s men dropped, clutching his knee.

Tires squealed.

I looked through the settling dust just in time to see the black Mercedes tear out of the loading zone, smashing through the exit barricade.

The loading dock fell terrifyingly silent, broken only by the distant wail of police sirens and the groans of the wounded guard.

Roman dropped his magazine, slamming a fresh one into his weapon. He knelt beside his bleeding guard, pressing a hand hard against the man's shoulder. He looked at me, his face smeared with gray dust.

“Are you hit?” he demanded.

“No,” I breathed, pulling Lily up with me. “We’re okay.”

Roman stood up, his eyes scanning the ruined lockers.

Suddenly, he cursed violently in Italian, kicking the twisted metal door of Locker 402.

“What?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.