CHAPTER 7 — THE WOMAN WHO WANTED VINCENT DEAD
The photograph wouldn't leave my mind.
Elias.
Alive.
Standing beside Tyler.
The man my father had spent years running from was no longer hiding in some forgotten corner of the world.
He was walking through Chicago.
And somehow, Tyler had found him.
Or Elias had found Tyler.
Either possibility terrified me.
Vincent stared at the photograph for several seconds.
Then he handed the phone to his security chief.
"Find the car."
His man nodded.
"Already trying."
"Don't try."
Vincent's voice hardened.
"Find it."
I watched him.
This was the side of Vincent I had never seen in the restaurant.
The quiet man who drank black coffee and tipped too much had disappeared.
In his place was someone people obeyed because they understood what happened when they didn't.
I whispered, "Are you going after Elias?"
"Eventually."
"When?"
"When I know where he wants me to go."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Vincent looked at me.
"Elias doesn't appear by accident."
"So he's setting a trap."
"Yes."
"For you."
"Most likely."
I swallowed.
"Then don't go."
Something almost like amusement crossed his face.
"You've known me for two days."
"And already I've learned you're terrible at staying alive."
He smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I'd seen from him.
Then it vanished.
"You're learning quickly."
My heart skipped.
I hated that it did.
The next evening, Vincent took me to a charity gala.
I hadn't wanted to go.
He insisted.
"Why?"
"Because if we stay hidden, they control the narrative."
"And if we go?"
"We control it."
I looked at the black dress hanging in the suite.
"I don't belong there."
Vincent stood behind me.
"You belong wherever you decide to stand."
I looked at him through the mirror.
He adjusted his cufflinks.
"You'll stay beside me."
"Is that an order?"
"No."
His eyes met mine in the reflection.
"A request."
That somehow made it harder to refuse.
The gala was held inside a historic Chicago hotel.
Crystal chandeliers.
Champagne.
Designer gowns.
Men whose names appeared in newspapers every morning.
The moment Vincent walked in, conversations changed.
People moved aside.
Eyes followed us.
I could feel whispers.
That's her.
The waitress.
The woman from the restaurant.
The woman Vincent kissed.
I wanted to disappear.
Vincent leaned toward me.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Shrink."
I looked at him.
"You always do that when people stare."
I blinked.
"You noticed?"
"I notice everything about you."
My heartbeat became painfully loud.
Before I could respond, a woman approached.
She was beautiful.
Elegant.
Late thirties.
Black gown.
Dark red lipstick.
She smiled at Vincent.
"Vincent."
He immediately stiffened.
"Isabella."
I looked between them.
She turned to me.
"So you're Emily."
I didn't like the way she said my name.
"Yes."
Her smile widened.
"I've heard so much."
"Have we met?"
"No."
She touched my arm.
"Not yet."
Something cold passed through me.
Vincent removed her hand from my arm.
"Don't."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
She smiled.
"That's why one of us will eventually die."
My blood ran cold.
Vincent stepped between us.
"Leave."
She laughed softly.
Then walked away.
I stared after her.
"Who was that?"
"An enemy."
"That tells me nothing."
"It tells you enough."
"No."
I turned toward him.
"I need the truth."
Before he could answer—
The lights went out.
A scream erupted across the ballroom.
Then came a gunshot.
People dropped.
Vincent grabbed me.
"Down!"
We fell behind a marble pillar.
Another shot shattered a chandelier.
Glass rained across the floor.
Vincent's security team moved instantly.
"Stay here."
He stood.
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Where are you going?"
"To find the shooter."
"No."
He looked at me.
"Vincent."
"Emily."
"I don't care who you are."
My voice shook.
"You're not walking away from me."
Something changed in his eyes.
Then another gunshot.
Vincent pushed me lower.
A bullet struck the marble above us.
He froze.
I saw blood.
His blood.
A thin line appeared near his shoulder.
"You're hit."
"It's nothing."
"It's bleeding."
He looked at the wound.
Then at me.
"Stay down."
He turned.
And I saw something on the floor.
A small black object.
A ring.
I recognized it from the photograph.
The black ring.
"Elias."
Vincent turned sharply.
"Where?"
I pointed.
He picked it up.
His face became expressionless.
Too expressionless.
"This isn't his."
"What?"
"It's a message."
"How do you know?"
"Because Elias doesn't wear rings."
I stared at him.
"Then whose is it?"
Vincent looked toward the balcony.
A woman stood there.
Isabella.
She was holding a gun.
Her eyes met Vincent's.
Then she smiled.
She raised the weapon.
I didn't think.
I moved.
I grabbed Vincent's arm and pulled him sideways.
The gunshot exploded.
The bullet missed his chest by inches.
Security tackled Isabella.
She fought violently.
Vincent stared at me.
"What did you just do?"
"I saved your life."
He looked at the bullet hole behind him.
Then back at me.
His expression softened.
"Yes."
I could barely breathe.
He touched my cheek.
"Thank you."
For a second, the entire ballroom disappeared.
Then Isabella screamed from across the room.
"You don't understand!"
Everyone looked at her.
She stared directly at me.
"Elias isn't coming for Vincent."
My heart stopped.
"He's coming for you."
The room went silent.
She laughed.
"Your father wasn't protecting you from him."
Her eyes moved to Vincent.
"He was protecting everyone else from what would happen if Elias found her."
Vincent's face hardened.
"Take her away."
Security dragged Isabella toward the exit.
I turned to Vincent.
"What does she mean?"
He didn't answer.
"Vincent."
His silence terrified me.
Finally, he said:
"There's something your father never told you."
"What?"
"You weren't just a witness."
I stared at him.
"Then what was I?"
May you like
He looked at me.
"The reason Elias started the entire war."
