Chapter Nine
870 Words
“There’s another way,” Sarah whispered. “Behind the furnace. A tunnel that leads to the next building.”
Mateo nodded. “Go. I’ll hold them off.”
“No.” Sloane grabbed his arm. “We go together.”
“Sloane—”
“Together. That was the deal.”
He looked at her, then at Sarah, then at the shadows growing closer. “Fine. Move. Now.”
Sarah led them to the back of the room, behind an old furnace. A metal grate covered a hole in the wall. She pulled it open, and they crawled through—Sloane first, then Sarah, then Mateo, his gun trained on the passage behind them.
The tunnel was narrow, dark, suffocating. Sloane’s knees scraped against concrete, her palms bleeding. Behind her, she heard Mateo’s breathing, steady and controlled.
Shouts echoed from the basement. Then gunfire.
“They’re shooting at the room,” Mateo said. “Keep moving.”
They emerged in another basement, this one empty, the stairs leading up to ground level. Mateo helped Sloane to her feet, then Sarah.
“Your car?” Sarah asked.
“Two blocks east. We have to run.”
They ran. Sloane’s lungs burned, her legs screamed, but she didn’t stop. Mateo was beside her, his hand gripping hers, pulling her forward.
Behind them, more shouts. More gunfire.
They reached the car. Mateo shoved Sloane and Sarah into the back seat, then jumped into the driver’s side. The engine roared to life, and they sped away, tires squealing.
Sloane looked back. Men in dark clothes were spilling out of the warehouse, but they were already too far.
She slumped against the seat, her heart pounding. Sarah was crying silently beside her.
Mateo drove for twenty minutes before pulling into a parking garage. He killed the engine and turned to face them.
“We need to talk,” he said. “Now.”
Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes. “You want the evidence.”
“I want Rossi in prison. If the evidence does that, yes.”
“It will.” Sarah reached into her coat and pulled out a memory card. “Everything is on here. Financial records, recordings of conversations, photographs. Rossi ordered your father’s murder. He paid the men who did it. And he killed your mother when she threatened to expose him.”
Mateo’s face went white. “You have proof of all of this?”
“Every last detail.”
He took the memory card, his hands trembling. “Why now? Why not come forward years ago?”
“Because I was scared. Because I had a daughter to protect. Because I didn’t know who to trust.” Sarah looked at Sloane. “But when I heard that my daughter had married Mateo Rivas, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore. He was either going to kill me or help me. I took a chance.”
Mateo stared at the memory card. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“I know. You’re not your father.”
He looked at Sloane. “What do you want to do?”
“I want Rossi to pay. I want my mother to be free. And I want—” She stopped.
“What?”
“I want to stop running.”
Mateo nodded slowly. He put the memory card in his pocket and started the car.
“Then we go to the FBI. Tonight. And we end this.”
—
The FBI field office was a nondescript building downtown. Mateo made a call, and within minutes, they were ushered into a conference room.
An agent named Harris listened to Sarah’s story, examined the memory card, and made copies. His face grew grimmer with each passing minute.
“This is enough to put Rossi away for life,” Harris said. “But we need you to testify. Both of you.” He looked at Sloane. “You’ll be protected. Witness protection if necessary.”
Sloane glanced at Mateo. He nodded.
“We’ll do it,” she said.
Harris left to prepare the paperwork. Sarah was taken to a safe house. And Sloane found herself alone with Mateo in the hallway.
“It’s almost over,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Rossi will be arrested within twenty‑four hours. His network will crumble. Your mother will be safe.”
“And us?”
He stepped closer. “What about us?”
“The contract is gone. The danger is ending. What’s left?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Whatever you want.”
Sloane thought about the past few days—the fear, the lies, the moments of unexpected tenderness. She thought about the way he kissed her, the way he protected her, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
“I want to see where this goes,” she said. “Without a contract. Without a deadline. Just… us.”
Mateo’s lips curved into a smile—a real one, warm and unguarded.
“I’d like that.”
His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his smile vanished. “Rossi was released on bail. He’s gone.”
- Writer
