Chapter 8
Domenico did not take Eli to the orchard.
Conrad called him a coward.
Domenico ignored it.
The orchard belonged to an abandoned Ravello property in Connecticut.
Old apple trees.
Stone farmhouse.
No active staff.
Exactly the kind of place a missing child might choose for secrecy.
Or a trap.
Conrad demanded to go.
Domenico allowed it.
No Eli.
That was final.
Before leaving, Domenico spoke to his son.
Eli was throwing the football against his bedroom wall.
The old ball.
Julian’s.
Domenico watched.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Because the old man gave it?”
Eli shook his head.
“Because mine.”
Three-year-old ownership.
Simple.
Domenico almost smiled.
“Conrad said it was Julian’s.”
“Mine now.”
“Yes.”
Then Eli added:
“Big boy said share.”
Domenico froze.
“What big boy?”
Eli kept playing.
“Ball boy.”
“When?”
“Flowers.”
Domenico crouched.
“Not old man?”
“Old man and big boy.”
His pulse changed.
Julian had been at the estate.
Not only Nicola.
“Did he talk to you?”
Eli nodded.
“What did he say?”
“Little Wolf.”
Domenico stopped breathing.
Nicola’s warning.
Never let anyone call Eli Little Wolf.
“Then?”
“He say kick ball.”
“Anything else?”
Eli thought.
“Don’t tell Daddy.”
Domenico’s face hardened.
Julian had not merely used Eli as messenger.
He had approached him secretly.
Conrad needed to know.
But first Domenico asked:
“Did the big boy touch you?”
“No.”
“Give you anything?”
Eli reached into his toy chest.
Pulled out a small wooden wolf.
Domenico stared.
Black wood.
Carved eyes.
Around the neck was a piece of red string.
He took it.
On the underside:
Number.
Training designation?
He did not know.
At the orchard, Conrad immediately noticed Domenico’s mood.
“What?”
“Julian was at the estate.”
Conrad froze.
“What?”
“He spoke to Eli.”
Emotion crossed Conrad’s face so quickly it hurt to watch.
Joy.
Fear.
Hope.
Rage.
“He saw my son.”
Domenico stared.
“He approached mine.”
Conrad understood the accusation.
“Julian wouldn’t hurt him.”
“You don’t know.”
“He’s thirteen.”
“A thirteen-year-old raised by people who steal children.”
Conrad stepped closer.
“Watch yourself.”
Domenico did.
That was the difference.
The old Domenico might have answered threat with threat.
Instead:
“I want him alive.”
Conrad stopped.
“So do I.”
“Then we do not pretend he is still five.”
That landed.
The orchard was quiet.
Too quiet.
Nicola waited in the farmhouse.
No Julian.
Conrad nearly lost control.
“He said—”
Nicola raised one hand.
“He came.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Left.”
“Why?”
Nicola looked at Domenico.
“Because Eli wasn’t with you.”
Conrad turned.
Domenico did not apologize.
“What did he say?”
Nicola handed over the black wolf marked fourteen.
Domenico stared.
“He gave Eli one.”
Nicola went pale.
“What?”
“Same number.”
The old man stood abruptly.
“That is bad.”
“Why?”
“Fourteen is not Julian’s number.”
“Whose?”
Nicola looked toward the orchard.
“Hunter.”
Conrad frowned.
“What is Hunter?”
“Shepherd needs children.”
Domenico waited.
Nicola whispered:
“Hunter finds them.”
The black wolf had not marked Julian.
It marked Eli as a target.
Domenico’s blood went cold.
“Julian gave it to him.”
Nicola shook his head.
“Then Julian is warning you.”
“How?”
“The number means Hunter has already seen Eli.”
Conrad looked toward the trees.
“Who is Hunter?”
May you like
Nicola’s answer came quietly.
“Miriam.”
