Dominic refused to let me go to South Station.
I refused to stay behind.
That argument lasted forty-three minutes.
I know because Gabriel timed it.
“Forty-four,” he corrected when I glared at him.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m on the side that survives the evening.”
Dominic stood across the townhouse kitchen with both hands planted on the counter.
“No.”
I crossed my arms.
“Yes.”
“Someone fired into Hart Atlantic because they knew we found something.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means whoever goes to that locker may be watched.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s your argument for going?”
“It’s my argument against sending one of your men carrying something Dad left specifically for me.”
Dominic stared at the ceiling.
Gabriel muttered, “She has a point.”
Dominic’s eyes snapped toward him.
Gabriel immediately examined the fruit bowl.
Traitorous fruit, apparently.
Finally Dominic looked at me.
“You stay beside me.”
“Fine.”
“If I say move, you move.”
“Fine.”
“If I say get down—”
“I remember what that means.”
His expression flickered.
At Hart Atlantic, Dominic had thrown himself over me without hesitation.
Only later did I notice a thin cut across his temple where glass had struck him.
I had cleaned it myself.
He had sat unnaturally still while I dabbed antiseptic against his skin.
Neither of us mentioned how close his hands were to my waist.
Neither mentioned that I could smell his cologne.
Neither mentioned the fact that my temporary husband had nearly been shot protecting me.
Now, as we prepared for South Station, something between us had changed.
I didn’t know what.
That frightened me almost as much as Malcolm.
We arrived shortly after midnight.
South Station was quieter than usual.
Dominic had arranged private access to the locker area through security contacts.
I didn’t ask how.
Locker 317 stood in the final row.
My father’s key fit perfectly.
My hand hesitated.
Dominic stood close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“You can wait.”
“I’ve spent six months waiting for Dad to somehow explain everything.”
I turned the key.
Inside sat a plain black case.
No money.
No jewels.
No mysterious weapon.
Just documents.
And an old digital recorder.
I pressed play.
My father’s voice filled the empty locker room.
“Evelyn, if you’re hearing this, then I was right to be worried.”
I stopped breathing.
Dominic lowered his eyes.
My father continued.
“First, I’m sorry.”
Tears blurred my vision immediately.
“I spent your entire life trying to protect you from the uglier parts of my world. I may have protected you too well.”
I laughed through tears.
Even dead, Dad understood.
“Second, Nolan is not a bad man.”
My jaw tightened.
“He is, however, a man who believes confidence can substitute for caution. It cannot.”
Dominic looked away, perhaps hiding a reaction.
“Malcolm Pryce has wanted Hart Atlantic’s port contracts for years. I refused every offer because I discovered his companies were using legitimate shipping operations to conceal illegal cargo.”
My skin went cold.
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Dad knew?”
“Yes,” Dominic whispered.
The recording continued.
“I collected enough records to prove portions of Pryce’s network exist inside apparently legitimate corporations. Copies are stored with an attorney whose identity is listed in the documents before you.”
I opened the folder.
Names.
Dates.
Account summaries.
Shipping manifests.
I recognized some Hart Atlantic routes.
My stomach turned.
“They used our ships?”
Dominic scanned the pages.
“Not directly. Look.”
He pointed.
Pryce-controlled subcontractors had been attempting to gain cargo access through several ports where Hart Atlantic held priority agreements.
If Malcolm gained the company, he gained infrastructure.
My father’s voice continued.
“If anything happens to me unexpectedly, do not assume Malcolm caused it. I have no proof of that. I was already ill when I made this recording.”
I closed my eyes.
Dad had died from an aggressive heart condition none of us knew he had until the final month.
Even now, he refused to let grief distort facts.
“But if Malcolm approaches Nolan after my death, contact Dominic Vale.”
I looked at Dominic.
He didn’t move.
“I know what people say about Dominic. Some is deserved.”
Dominic gave a humorless breath.
“Some is exaggerated. What matters to you is this: he keeps his word.”
Tears fell faster.
“If Dominic is standing beside you now, tell him he still owes me twenty dollars from the Red Sox game in 2017.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
Dominic actually closed his eyes.
“You owe my dead father twenty dollars?”
“He cheated on a bet.”
Dad’s voice said, “And Dominic, if you’re claiming I cheated, you’re still a terrible loser.”
I stared at him.
For the first time, Dominic Vale looked embarrassed.
It was wonderful.
Then the recording became serious.
“Evelyn, Hart Atlantic belongs partly to you because I trusted your judgment, not because you are my daughter. There is a difference.”
My heart broke.
“I hoped you would have more time before responsibility found you. If you don’t, remember something I should have told you more often.”
I pressed both hands to my mouth.
“You are not fragile.”
The sentence went through me.
“You never were.”
I cried openly then.
“You may be kind. You may be gentle. You may be frightened. None of those things make you weak.”
Dominic stood silently beside me.
“Do not let Nolan, Malcolm, Dominic, or any other man convince you that protection means surrendering your decisions.”
Dominic’s gaze rose.
Dad had anticipated even this.
“If you choose help, choose it. If you choose love someday, choose that too. But make sure the life is yours.”
The recording clicked off.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Finally Dominic said, “He always did enjoy getting the last word.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“You really loved him.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“Yes.”
I looked down at the evidence.
“What do we do?”
“You decide.”
“Dad told me to trust you.”
“He also told you not to surrender your decisions.”
“So advise me.”
Dominic nodded.
“We make three copies.”
“Why?”
“One goes to your attorney. One goes somewhere Pryce can’t reach. One stays with us.”
“And the original?”
“Federal authorities.”
I stared.
“You want to give it to law enforcement?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Surprised?”
“A little.”
“Pryce’s operation crosses ports and state lines. This isn’t something solved by two men shooting each other in an alley.”
“You realize that statement destroys several stereotypes.”
“I’ll recover.”
We packed the case.
Then Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Nolan is missing.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean missing?”
“He left Hart House two hours ago.”
“Maybe he went somewhere.”
“His car was found near the waterfront.”
Cold spread through me.
“Malcolm?”
“We don’t know.”
I called Nolan.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Again.
On the fourth attempt, someone answered.
Nobody spoke.
“Nolan?”
Silence.
“Nolan, is that you?”
Then Malcolm Pryce’s voice said, “Hello, Evelyn.”
Dominic reached for the phone.
I stepped away.
“Where is my brother?”
“He’s made several unfortunate decisions.”
“Let him go.”
“Bring me what your father left.”
My blood turned to ice.
“You broke into his office.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You tried to kill us.”
“Be careful with accusations.”
“I’m recording this.”
“No, you aren’t.”
I looked at Dominic.
He gave a tiny nod.
Actually, we were.
Malcolm continued.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“My father disagreed.”
“Henry was stubborn.”
“So am I.”
“That quality becomes less charming when family members suffer because of it.”
My knees weakened.
Then Nolan screamed in the background.
“Nolan!”
Dominic grabbed my arm before I fell.
Malcolm returned.
“Tomorrow. Noon. You’ll receive instructions.”
“If you hurt him—”
“You married a dangerous man, Evelyn. Surely you understand how dangerous men negotiate.”
I looked at Dominic.
He was utterly still.
“No,” I said. “I’m starting to understand the difference between dangerous men.”
Malcolm went silent.
Then the call ended.
I lowered the phone.
“I have to give him the evidence.”
“No.”
“He has Nolan.”
“He wants you.”
“What?”
Dominic’s voice was grim.
“If he only wanted the documents, he could demand a courier. He called you.”
“Because Nolan is my brother.”
“Because your shares transfer soon.”
The truth hit.
“He still wants Hart Atlantic.”
“Yes.”
“And my marriage to you prevents him from controlling me.”
“Legally.”
“But if I disappeared…”
Dominic’s jaw hardened.
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
I looked at him.
“What do we do?”
He paced once.
Then again.
For the first time since meeting him, Dominic looked uncertain.
“Nolan made terrible choices,” I said. “But he’s my brother.”
“I know.”
“I can’t leave him.”
“I know.”
“Then help me.”
Dominic stopped.
Something moved in his expression.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
“I lost my sister because I believed I could control a situation that was already out of control.”
My anger softened.
“I know.”
“No, Evelyn. You know the sentence. You don’t know what it sounds like when someone you love calls your name and you’re thirty seconds too late.”
My throat tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“I won’t do that again.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“I can try.”
“And if trying means locking me in this house while Nolan dies?”
His eyes flashed.
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I stepped closer.
“But Dad was right. Protection isn’t surrendering my decisions.”
Dominic looked at me for a long time.
Then he nodded once.
“All right.”
“All right?”
“We do it your way.”
Relief nearly buckled my knees.
“With modifications.”
“Of course.”
“We use copies. Tracking devices. Federal contacts.”
“Okay.”
“And you wear body armor.”
I blinked.
“Under what?”
“I’ll find something.”
“That’s your biggest concern?”
“My biggest concern is keeping bullets out of you.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Then Dominic reached into his pocket.
He removed my wedding ring.
I stared.
“I thought I lost that.”
“It fell off at Hart Atlantic when we hit the floor.”
He took my left hand.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he slid the ring back onto my finger.
His thumb stayed against my hand.
“You chose this marriage for protection,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“If tomorrow goes wrong—”
“Don’t.”
“I need you to know something.”
My heart hammered.
“What?”
His eyes held mine.
“This stopped being business for me.”
The locker room seemed suddenly too small.
My voice barely worked.
“When?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Dominic.”
“Maybe when you slapped me.”
I laughed through tears.
“That’s disturbing.”
“I have issues.”
“I noticed.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles.
Then the moment vanished when Gabriel appeared at the doorway.
“Boss.”
Dominic released my hand.
“What?”
Gabriel held up his phone.
“We traced Nolan’s last signal.”
“Where?”
“Old shipyard in Charlestown.”
Dominic and I looked at each other.
Malcolm had told us noon tomorrow.
Which meant one of two things.
Either Nolan was still there—
or Malcolm expected us to be too afraid to look before morning.
Dominic picked up the black case.
“We’re not waiting.”
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn’t following either my brother’s decision or Malcolm’s plan.
I was making my own.
Even if it meant walking beside Boston’s most feared man into a trap.