Chapter 4 - Safe Houses and Old Lies
Luca took us to a penthouse overlooking the Hudson.
I refused to call it a safe house.
Safe houses did not have floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, private elevators, and an entire nursery furnished in muted blue and gray. Safe houses did not have a kitchen larger than my apartment.
But Luca insisted it was the safest place he had.
“Vargo does not know this address,” he said.
“That means he’ll find it eventually,” I replied.
For the first time, he looked at me with something close to approval.
“You learn quickly.”
“I had a difficult childhood.”
He looked toward Matteo, asleep in the nursery crib.
“So did he.”
That first night, I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photograph behind the bar. Elena Vale’s face. My face. My mother’s secret.
At dawn, I found Luca standing on the balcony with a cup of black coffee.
The city below looked peaceful from forty stories up.
It was not.
“Did you love Elena?” I asked.
He did not turn around.
“Yes.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
“What happened to her?”
“She vanished.”
“That’s not what happened. People don’t just vanish.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “In my world, they do.”
I crossed my arms against the cold.
“Tell me anyway.”
Luca finally faced me.
“She was my sister’s best friend. We met when I was twenty-six. She worked at a gallery on Madison Avenue. She was nothing like me.”
“What was she like?”
“Kind. Stubborn. Too brave.”
“That sounds like my mother.”
His gaze sharpened.
“What was your mother like?”
I swallowed.
“Scared.”
He looked down.
“Then she had reason.”
Luca explained that seventeen years ago, he had been trying to leave the criminal organization he inherited from his father. Viktor Vargo had been his closest rival—and once, his closest friend.
Vargo wanted power.
Luca wanted out.
Elena had discovered proof that Vargo was working with corrupt officials, moving weapons through the city, and arranging murders to take control of the organization.
“She found documents,” Luca said. “She wanted to go to the police.”
“And you didn’t let her?”
“I begged her not to.”
“Why?”
“Because the police were part of it.”
His voice was full of something painful.
“I told her I would get us out. I told her I would protect her.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
The word hung in the air.
“The night we were supposed to leave,” he continued, “her apartment was attacked. By the time I got there, she was gone. No body. No note. Nothing.”
“What about my mother? Claire Bennett?”
Luca looked at me.
“I don’t know who she was.”
“But she knew Elena.”
“Maybe Elena trusted her.”
“Maybe she was Elena.”
Luca’s expression changed.
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Elena would never abandon a child.”
The words hurt more than he intended.
“My mother never abandoned me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“She died when I was thirteen,” I said. “She worked two jobs until she got sick. She gave me that necklace. She warned me about dragons. She left me everything she could.”
Luca’s face softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“People keep saying that.”
“I know.”
We were interrupted by Matteo’s crying.
I rushed toward the nursery, but Luca was already there. He lifted Matteo from the crib, trying to soothe him.
The baby screamed harder.
Then he saw me.
His cries stopped immediately.
He leaned toward me with both arms outstretched.
Luca stood frozen.
“He thinks you’re her,” he whispered.
“His mother?”
“No.” Luca looked at the old photograph displayed on his phone. “Elena.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Maybe not.”
He handed Matteo to me.
The baby settled against my shoulder, pressing one hand over my necklace.
His fingers hooked beneath the chain.
The pendant slipped free.
Then something fell from inside it.
A tiny folded strip of paper.
I stared at it.
“I didn’t know that was there.”
Luca took one step closer. “Open it.”
The paper was old and brittle.
Written in faded ink were numbers and an address.
314 West 49th Street. Basement locker.
The brass key from the restaurant fit the same number.
Luca looked at Nico, who had just entered the room.
“Get the car.”
“No,” I said.
Luca turned to me.
“I’m going too.”
“Mara, that is not safe.”
“Neither is staying here while people break into my apartment and steal my mother’s things.”
“No.”
I stepped closer, Matteo still in my arms.
“You told me I was connected to this. You told me Vargo knows my face. You don’t get to keep me in the dark while you decide what my life means.”
Luca stared at me.
Then he looked at Matteo.
Finally, he nodded.
“One hour,” he said. “You stay beside me.”
“That’s not a promise I can make.”
“Mara.”
“I’ll try.”
Nico groaned softly.
“Boss, she is going to be trouble.”
Luca’s mouth almost curved.
“She already is.”
The building at 314 West 49th Street had been abandoned for years.
The basement smelled of rust, wet concrete, and old smoke. Luca’s men swept the hallway before we entered. I held Matteo tightly against me while Luca unlocked the metal storage locker.
Inside was one box.
No weapons.
No cash.
No obvious secret.
Just a faded cardboard box with the words MARA written across the top in my mother’s handwriting.
My knees nearly gave out.
Luca crouched beside it.
“Do you want me to open it?”
“No.”
I reached down myself.
Inside were photographs, letters, a child’s hospital bracelet, and an old cassette tape.
On top was an envelope addressed to me.
For Mara, when the dragons return.
I opened it with shaking hands.
The first line made Luca go pale.
May you like
My name is not Claire Bennett. My name is Elena Vale.
---
