Chapter 29
Chapter 29: The Shadow Commission
From the darkness of the cellar stairs, a man stepped into the flashlight beam. He wasn't dressed like a New York mobster or a mercenary. He wore a crisp, tailored suit of a federal agent, his badge gleaming under the light. It was Agent Miller—the very man who had led the federal task force that arrested Preston a year ago.
"Thank you for finding that for us, Mrs. DeLuca," Miller said, his voice smooth, professional, and entirely corrupt. "Vincent Moretti has been looking for that book for six months. The Commission wants it back. The politicians want it back. And I’m going to use it to buy my retirement."
Enzo stepped in front of Harper, his hand moving toward his piece, but Miller raised a hand, his mercenaries tightening their fingers on their triggers.
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"Don't be stupid, DeLuca," Miller sneered. "You’re good, but you can't outrun twelve automatic weapons in a closed cellar. Hand over the ledger, and maybe I let you and your pretty wife walk out of here alive. You can go back to your little sanctuary and play house with your baby."
Harper looked at the book in her hands, then at Enzo. She saw the lethal calculation in her husband's eyes—he was waiting for her signal, ready to die to give her a fraction of a second to escape. She looked at Miller, the man who represented the very system that had ignored her screams for ten years when she was a child.
