The moment the waitress spoke French, every gun in the private dining room seemed to appear at once.
The moment the waitress spoke French, every gun in the private dining room seemed to appear at once.
Nora Hayes stood frozen beside the table, one hand wrapped around a champagne bottle.
She had come to the Black Lantern that night expecting nothing more than another exhausting shift.
She never expected to hear a murder discussed in a language nobody believed she understood.
Nora was twenty-eight and had perfected the art of being invisible.
Black apron.
Cheap shoes.
Hair tied back.
Eyes lowered.
Nobody cared where a waitress came from.
That was exactly how she wanted it.
Seven years earlier, Nora had lived in Paris, Rome, and Madrid.
Her father had worked as a diplomatic security adviser.
She had learned French, Italian, Spanish, and Russian before she was twenty.
Then her father was killed during an attack overseas.
Nora came home and disappeared.
She wanted no government offices.
No reporters.
No questions.
Just quiet.
The Black Lantern gave her that.
Until Victor Romano walked through the door.
Everyone in New York knew his name.
Victor was a powerful crime boss who rarely appeared in public without at least four men around him.
That night, he entered with five.
“Private room,” he told the manager.
The manager immediately nodded.
“Of course, Mr. Romano.”
Nora carried their drinks upstairs.
As she approached the table, one of Victor's men blocked her.
“Leave the bottle.”
Nora placed it down.
Then Victor looked at her.
“Stay.”
She frowned.
“I have tables downstairs.”
“You'll be compensated.”
Nora didn't like the sound of that.
But she stayed.
Ten minutes later, another group entered.
Three men.
Expensive suits.
Cold expressions.
One spoke quietly in French.
Nora continued polishing a glass.
Then she heard the sentence.
“She doesn't know about the second shipment.”
Nora's hand stopped.
The second man replied.
“Good. Because if she finds out, Romano dies before sunrise.”
Nora's heart slammed against her ribs.
She knew that voice.
She had heard it seven years earlier.
The night her father died.
She looked up.
The Frenchman noticed her.
Their eyes met.
He immediately stopped talking.
Victor leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
The man smiled.
“Nothing important.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
Then Nora quietly spoke.
“He said the second shipment arrives at Pier 19 at midnight.”
Silence.
Victor slowly turned toward her.
The Frenchman went pale.
“You speak French?”
Nora set the glass down.
“Yes.”
Victor studied her.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
One of his guards reached beneath his jacket.
Victor raised one hand.
“Don't.”
The guard stopped.
Victor looked at Nora.
“Who are you?”
“Nobody.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“Nobody doesn't understand that conversation.”
Nora stepped backward.
“I should return to work.”
Victor stood.
“You're not going anywhere.”
Nora's pulse raced.
Then she heard something outside.
Three short knocks.
A pause.
Two more.
Her father's old emergency signal.
Nora turned toward the door.
Victor noticed.
“What is it?”
She whispered,
“Someone is here for me.”
The lights suddenly went out.
A gunshot exploded downstairs.
Then another.
People screamed.
Victor grabbed Nora and pulled her behind the table.
“Stay down!”
Glass shattered.
His guards drew weapons.
Nora crawled toward the service door.
Victor caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To stop them.”
“You?”
Nora looked directly into his eyes.
“You hired the wrong waitress.”
She pulled free.
In the darkness, Nora moved through the kitchen with frightening certainty.
She reached the back corridor and found a man waiting.
He raised his gun.
“Nora.”
She froze.
The man lowered his weapon.
“You have your father's eyes.”
Her breath caught.
“You knew my father?”
The man nodded.
“He wasn't killed seven years ago.”
Nora's world stopped.
“What?”
“He survived the attack.”
She grabbed his jacket.
“Where is he?”
The man looked toward the dining room.
“He's been trying to reach you ever since.”
Nora's voice broke.
“Then why didn't he come home?”
The man hesitated.
“Because the people who ordered his death were never arrested.”
Behind them, Victor appeared.
His gun was raised.
“Step away from her.”
The man turned.
“Victor, you don't understand.”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Then explain.”
The man pulled a photograph from his pocket.
He handed it to Victor.
Victor stared at it.
His face suddenly drained of color.
The photograph showed Nora's father standing beside Victor's older brother.
Alive.
Smiling.
And on the back were four handwritten words:
THE TRAITOR IS INSIDE.
Victor slowly looked toward his own men.
Then toward Nora.
And for the first time that night, the most feared man in the room looked genuinely afraid.
Because Nora's father hadn't been hiding from Victor.
He had been hiding inside Victor's organization.
And the person who betrayed him was standing only a few feet away.
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