Page 40 of Deadly Legacy
The contrast was so absurd that Reuben almost laughed. His father’s ability to switch to executive mode even in crisis was both impressive and infuriating.
“Service exit?” Reuben asked the chef, who pointed wordlessly toward the back.
They pushed through the bustling kitchen, past line cooks who barely looked up from their stations. The heat from the ovens hit Reuben’s face as they passed, a stark contrast to the cool cellar they’d escaped. Pans clattered and burners hissed while chefs called orders over the din.
“The gala’s a pure power play,” Wallace continued, straightening his tie as they walked. “Dmitrii’s spent months cultivating the city’s elite. Half the board members from tech companies will be there, including Quantize Guard’s investors. Once he has their surveillance system, he’ll be able to track anyone who crosses him.”
“You talk like you’re not part of his plan.” Reuben pushed open the service exit, checking both directions before stepping into the alley. The sudden chill raised goosebumps on his sweat-dampened skin.
“I was just a tool to him. Same as your mother.” Wallace’s shoulders slumped. “Same as you would be if he got hold of you.”
“Why should I believe you now?” Reuben’s fingers brushed the notebook inside his jacket. “After everything you’ve done, why the sudden concern?”
Wallace’s eyes found Reuben’s, showing a vulnerability Reuben had never seen before. “You were never the disappointment. I was.”
“Don’t.” Reuben’s throat tightened as he scanned the alley, focusing on a delivery truck idling at the far end. Anything to avoid looking at his father’s face and whatever truth might be written there. “Save the family therapy for when we’re not being hunted.”
They moved quickly between dumpsters, the stench of rotting vegetables mixing with grease from the kitchen vents. Reuben tensed at every sound; a bottle rolling across concrete, a door slamming, a distant car horn.
“Nikon has a safehouse three blocks from here,” Reuben said, decision made. “If we can reach it, we’ll be protected.”
Wallace stopped short. “AMatveisafehouse? You’re taking me to Nikon?”
“I’m taking you somewhere safe. Got a better idea?”
The sound of a door banging open behind them ended the debate. Two of Dmitrii’s men spilled into the alley, weapons drawn.
“Run!” Reuben shoved Wallace forward, then turned to face the pursuers.
The first attacker rushed him, knife extended. Reuben sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted. The knife clattered to the ground as the man howled in pain.
The second attacker circled more cautiously. Reuben shifted his weight, centered his balance. The man lunged, and Reuben countered, driving his elbow into the attacker’s solar plexus. The impact jolted through Reuben’s arm.
His body responded automatically, each movement flowing from Stepan’s endless drills. He was no longer the defenseless poker player who needed protection. The realization brought sharp satisfaction.
“Reuben!” Wallace’s voice cut through his focus. His father stood frozen at the end of the alley, an expression caught between horror and awe.
More shouts echoed from the restaurant. Reuben grabbed the fallen knife and ran, pushing Wallace ahead of him. They wound through back streets, turning randomly to break their trail.
“When did you—” Wallace gasped between breaths, “—learn to fight like that?”
“A lot’s changed since you kicked me out.” Reuben checked over his shoulder, found the street momentarily clear. “Left here.”
They turned into a narrow passage between two apartment buildings. Reuben counted doorways until he found the unmarked entrance. He punched a code into the keypad, and the door clicked open.
“Inside. Quick.”
The safehouse was sparse but secure—reinforced doors, no windows, basic furnishings. Reuben locked the door behind them and activated the security system.
Wallace sank into a chair, breathing heavily. His tailored suit was torn at the shoulder, dirt streaked across what had beenimmaculate fabric. He looked deflated, the imperious financial titan reduced to an exhausted old man.
“They’ll kill me for this.” Wallace gestured to the notebook now crumpled inside Reuben’s jacket. “If Dmitrii finds out I’ve given you that information...”
“Why did you?” Reuben remained standing, adrenaline still pumping through his system. “Why now?”
“Because I had nobody else to turn to.” Wallace’s voice cracked. “Because despite everything, you’re still my son.”
The raw honesty in his father’s voice twisted something in Reuben’s chest. He wanted to believe him, but knew too well how masterfully Wallace could manipulate.
