Chapter 13
Drywall exploded into powdery clouds as high-caliber bullets tore through the bedroom walls. Ryan dove behind an antique mahogany dresser, covering his head as glass from the vanity shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Marcus had brought his personal strike team—the men hired specifically to guard the outer perimeter, men who answered to Marcus’s payroll, not Ryan’s.
Ryan didn't waste time returning fire into the hallway. He scrambled backward on his knees, sliding into the closet just as a burst of gunfire shredded the door frame. He slipped into the narrow opening behind the shoe rack, pulling the false panel shut behind him and throwing the heavy iron bolt into place.
The darkness of the interior wall cavity swallowed him. It was a suffocating maze of exposed studs, ventilation pipes, and ancient stone from the estate's original foundation.
A tiny hand suddenly touched his wrist.
Ryan spun around, raising his gun, but stopped himself just in time. It wasn't Emily. It was the girl from the wall.
"Where is Emily? Where is Sarah?" Ryan whispered fiercely.
The girl pointed down into the darkness of the narrow vertical drop. "The lady took the stairs. She told me to wait for you."
Ryan stared at her in the dim light filtering through the air vents. Up close, her face was gaunt, her skin pale like parchment, but her eyes were an unmistakable, piercing shade of green. The exact same shade as Maria’s. But there was something else in the structure of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw that made Ryan's breath catch in his throat.
"What is your name?" Ryan asked softly, the gunfire muffled above them.
"Lily," she whispered. Her fingers reached into her dirty pocket and pulled out a worn, bloodstained piece of paper folded into a tiny square. "Mama said if the tall man with the scar ever tried to kill me, I had to give this to the man who owned the house. She said you wouldn't let him hurt me."
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Ryan unfolded the fragile paper with trembling fingers. Inside was a handwritten note in Maria’s elegant script, dated five years ago—the very night she was reported missing.
*Ryan, if you are reading this, Marcus has already sold us out to the commission. He told you I stole the money, but he took it to buy his own crew. Lily is four months old today. She has your father’s eyes. Save our daughter.*
