Chapter 6 - THE CHILD THEY REALLY WANTED
I stared at Noah's bloodstained jacket.
For one terrible second, I couldn't breathe.
Then Jack took the jacket from my hands.
“Lily. Look at me.”
I couldn't.
“Look at me.”
I finally raised my eyes.
“We don't know whose blood this is,” he said. “Don't let fear tell you something we haven't proven.”
Rocco's radio crackled.
“Found a survivor. Adult male. Second floor.”
Jack stepped toward the entrance.
“Identify him.”
A moment later, Rocco answered.
“Ethan Bennett.”
I rushed forward.
Jack blocked my path.
“Stay behind me.”
Inside, the garage smelled of oil and damp concrete.
Ethan lay against a wall, clutching his wounded arm.
The sight of me made him laugh weakly.
“Lily. Of course you'd bring Moretti.”
I dropped to my knees.
“Where's Noah?”
He stared at me.
“Where is my son?”
“They took him.”
“Who?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Pierce's people.”
Jack crouched beside him.
“Where did they go?”
Ethan looked at Jack with naked hatred.
“You think you're the only Moretti with secrets?”
Jack's voice remained steady.
“Answer the question.”
Ethan glanced toward me.
“Tell her.”
“Tell me what?” I demanded.
He looked away.
“Pierce wanted the boy because of the robot. But Marco wanted something else.”
“What?”
Ethan's eyes filled with a strange fear.
“He wanted Lily.”
Silence.
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
Ethan began shaking his head.
“He said she knew too much. That she survived something she wasn't supposed to.”
Jack leaned closer.
“What exactly did she see?”
Ethan opened his mouth.
Then his gaze shifted toward a broken window.
His eyes widened.
“Get down!”
Jack pulled me to the floor.
A shot cracked through the room.
Concrete splintered above us.
Rocco's men moved immediately.
By the time the shooting stopped, Ethan lay motionless.
I pressed my hand against his wounded chest while Jack called for medical assistance.
“Ethan!”
His eyes fluttered.
“Lily,” he whispered.
“Where is Noah?”
He struggled for breath.
Then pushed something into my palm.
A tiny silver key.
“Storage locker. Union Station.”
“What number?”
His lips barely moved.
“Two seventeen.”
Then he whispered one last sentence.
“The woman in the photograph... she's the reason they wanted you dead.”
His hand fell away.
I stared at him, unable to speak.
Jack gently helped me stand.
A paramedic rushed past us.
Rocco approached carrying a phone recovered from Ethan's pocket.
“We found a picture attached to a message from Pierce.”
He turned the screen toward me.
A younger woman smiled beside Jack Moretti.
She wore a pale blue dress.
And across her left shoulder was a distinctive crescent-shaped scar.
The same scar I carried.
Jack stared at the photograph.
Then whispered a name.
“Isabella.”
I looked at him.
“Who is she?”
May you like
His voice was barely audible.
“My wife.”
