Chapter 19 - The Voice in the Dark
The Suburban skidded to a halt thirty yards away, tires smoking against the wet pavement.
The man in the trench coat spun around, instantly pulling the little girl in front of him. In his right hand, a heavy revolver gleamed under the highway halogen lamps, the barrel pressed directly against the temple of Faith Moretti.
"Step out, Jared!" Brendan’s voice screamed over the roaring wind and thunderstorm. "One move from your driver and Elena’s little bastard feeds the fish!"
Jared stepped out into the freezing rain. His suit was drenched in seconds, his bloodied hand hanging at his side. He didn't raise a weapon.
"Let her go, Brendan," Jared said, his voice carrying clearly despite the storm. "Take my life. Take every account, every warehouse, every cent I own. Put the gun to my head. But let the girl walk to Willa."
Brendan threw his head back and laughed—a jagged, manic sound. "You think this is about money, Kensington? Your father executed my brother’s legacy! Elena was supposed to belong to our family! Instead, she carried your seed and died for it. It’s poetic, really. You’ll watch your daughter fall into the river, just like you watched Elena bleed out on that hospital bed!"
The little girl didn't cry. Despite the gun against her head, she stood remarkably still, her sightless, milky-hazel eyes staring blankly into the dark storm.
"Mister?" the little girl’s soft, fragile voice drifted through the rain. "Are you the man from the letter?"
Jared’s heart felt as though it had been ripped out of his ribcage. "Faith..."
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"My mama left a tape," Faith whispered, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "She said if a big, angry dog ever comes for me... his name is Roman. And the man with him is my daddy."
In the back of the Suburban, Roman let out a roar that shook the metal frame of the vehicle.
