Page 8 of Devil's Embrace
My options were limited, and time was short.Caparelli's body was still warm, the blood still spreading across the pavement.I could eliminate them both—quick, clean, two more bodies to dispose of.Practical, but messy.Children's murders drew attention, investigations, resources.The woman was backing away now, attempting to shield the child with her body, as if that could stop a bullet.
Option two: let them go and eliminate them later, once I'd tracked them to their home.Risky.They could talk to someone, call the police.Even on Halloween, a report of a murdered man in an alley would bring squad cars within minutes.
Option three: take them with me.Control the situation.Determine their usefulness.Decide their fate later, when I had time to think through all the angles.
I made my decision in less than three seconds.
My hand moved to my coat pocket, where I returned the knife I'd used on Caparelli.The gun at my ribs would be more effective for what came next.I felt its reassuring weight as I began moving toward the pair, my steps deliberate, unhurried.I never rushed.Rushing led to mistakes, and I didn't make mistakes.
"Please."The woman’s voice sounded thin with fear."We didn't see anything."
I almost smiled at the obvious lie.They'd seen everything that mattered.The woman's flashlight had dropped to point at the ground, but there was enough ambient light for me to track her movements.She was feeling behind her, searching for an escape route that didn't exist.
I calculated my approach, cutting off their line of retreat.The alley had one entrance, one exit.They'd need to get past me to reach one, and be faster than me for the other.The woman realized this at the same moment I positioned myself to block their escape.I saw the recognition in her eyes, the flicker of desperation.
"Don't move.”My voice carried easily in the confined space despite the low tone.I didn't need to shout to be obeyed.Volume was for men who lacked authority.
The woman froze, her fingers digging into the child's shoulder."I swear we didn't see anything.Let us go."
I studied her face in the dim light.Plain but pleasant enough.Blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.No jewelry except for small earrings.No wedding ring.Single mother, most likely.The child clung to her leg, face buried against the woman's jeans, only the purple hood and unicorn horn visible.
"You saw everything."I wouldn’t bother to pretend otherwise.Lies were useful tools, but unnecessary here.
"We won't tell anyone," she insisted, desperation sharpening her voice."I swear.We just want to go home."
I took another step closer, watching her press back against the dumpster behind her.There was nowhere for her to go.The child whimpered again, and the woman's hand moved to cover her head protectively.
"Mama."I noted the term of address.Confirmed: mother and daughter.
"It's okay, sweet pea."The woman’s gaze never left mine."Everything's going to be okay."
Another lie.But a useful one, meant to comfort the child.I respected that instinct, even as I calculated how to use it against her.
"Your name."It wasn’t a request but a demand.
She hesitated, weighing whether to lie.Smart woman.But she must have seen something in my expression that warned against deception."Emory.Emory Scott."
I committed the name to memory, though I'd verify it later."And the child?"
Her arm tightened around the girl's shoulders."That doesn't matter."
I raised an eyebrow, the only sign of my surprise at her defiance.Most people, upon realizing they were at my mercy, offered whatever information I requested.This woman—Emory—was afraid but not broken.Not yet.
"It matters," I countered."Everything matters."
The standoff stretched between us, punctuated only by the distant sounds of Halloween revelry and the child's muffled sniffling.Emory remained frozen, one hand on her daughter's head, the other still clutching the now-useless flashlight.Her posture was tense but determined, like a cornered animal that hadn't given up hope of escape.
I could respect that, even as I ensured it wouldn't happen.
"Mina."Her voice came out so softly I almost missed it."Her name is Mina."
Emory and Mina Scott.Mother and daughter, witnesses to a murder, now variables in an equation I needed to solve.I considered my uncle Mateo's ongoing power struggle with the Bianchi family.Hostages could be leverage.Especially a woman and child—perfect for emotional manipulation.Mateo wouldn't approve, but Mateo wasn't here.
"We should go," I said, not phrasing it as a suggestion.
"Go where?"Emory's voice had taken on a harder edge."We're not going anywhere with you."
I almost admired her courage, misplaced though it was."You have two choices.Come with me quietly, or force me to make this situation messier than it needs to be."
