CHAPTER 27 TOMMYS DISAPPEARANCE
Dario stood in the armory, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead.
The lock on the gun cabinet was broken, the metal twisted where someone had pried it open.
Inside, two Glocks were missing, along with a box of hollow-point rounds.
The scent of oil and gunpowder lingered in the air, sharp and metallic.
He ran a finger along the edge of the cabinet, his jaw tightening.
"Tommy," he muttered, his voice low and flat.
He pulled out his phone and tapped a quick message to Ez: Check the garage. Tommy’s gone.
The reply came seconds later: Black sedan’s missing. Keys too. What’s going on?
Dario didn’t answer. He moved to the surveillance room, where Evelyn’s facial recognition system was still active.
The screen flickered with feeds from various cameras across the city.
He leaned over the console, his eyes scanning the grid of images.
One frame caught his attention—a man in a hoodie walking briskly down a sidewalk, his head down but unmistakable. Tommy.
The timestamp matched twenty minutes ago. The location was Marsh’s office building, three blocks from where Evelyn had been spotted earlier in the day.
Dario’s stomach turned cold. He replayed the footage, watching Tommy’s deliberate stride, the way his hand brushed against his jacket pocket, the slight bulge of a weapon hidden there.
"Damn it," Dario hissed under his breath.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, his mind racing through the possibilities.
Tommy had always been impulsive, but this—this was reckless, even for him.
Marsh wasn’t just some low-level informant; he was a federal agent with connections, resources, and a penchant for making problems disappear.
Taking him out would draw attention, the kind Dario couldn’t afford right now.
The drive to Marsh’s office was tense, the city streets blurring past as Dario pushed the speed limit. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other on his phone, ready to call Tommy off if he could reach him in time. But Tommy wasn’t answering.
When he arrived, the building was quiet, the lobby lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Dario flashed a fake badge at the security desk and strode toward the elevators, his posture radiating authority. The guard barely glanced at him.
Upstairs, Marsh’s office door was ajar. Dario pushed it open, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. The room was empty, the desk cluttered with papers and a half-empty coffee cup. The faint smell of stale coffee and printer toner hung in the air.
He moved to the window, his eyes scanning the street below. There, parked across the intersection, was the black sedan. Tommy’s silhouette was visible in the driver’s seat, his head tilted as if he were watching the building.
Dario pulled out his phone and dialed Tommy’s number again. This time, Tommy answered.
"Don’t," Dario said, his voice sharp.
"Don’t what?" Tommy’s tone was casual, almost mocking.
"Don’t play dumb. I know where you are. I know what you’re planning. Marsh isn’t worth it."
Tommy chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "You don’t get it, Dario. He’s not merely some fed. He’s the one who’s been sniffing around Evelyn. He’s the reason she’s in hiding. You think I’m gonna let him keep breathing after that?"
Dario’s grip tightened on the phone. "You think killing him solves anything? It’ll bring the whole Bureau down on us. You’re not thinking straight."
"I’m thinking clearer than you," Tommy shot back. "You’re too busy playing it safe. Marsh is a threat, and I’m gonna take care of it. End of story."
The line went dead.
Dario stared at the phone, his chest tight. He turned back to the window, watching as Tommy stepped out of the car and adjusted his jacket, his movements deliberate.
He was going to do it. Right here, right now.
Dario cursed under his breath and headed for the stairs, his mind racing. He had to stop Tommy before he crossed a line they couldn’t uncross. But as he reached the lobby, he saw the black sedan pull away from the curb, disappearing into the flow of traffic.
Tommy was already gone.
Dario stepped into the dimly lit alley, the faint hum of the city a distant murmur behind him.
Tommy stood a few paces ahead, his posture tense, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.
Evelyn leaned against the brick wall, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
"Tommy," Dario said, his voice low but firm. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Tommy turned, his face pale but determined. "I had to see her. I needed to know."
"Know what?" Dario’s tone sharpened, his patience thinning. "You don’t just go rogue like this. You’re putting us all at risk."
"I’m not rogue," Tommy shot back, his voice rising. "I’m trying to understand. You keep saying there are rules, but no one explains them. I’m tired of being kept in the dark."
Evelyn pushed off the wall, her gaze flicking between the two men. "He’s not wrong, Dario. You can’t expect him to play by rules he doesn’t understand."
Dario’s jaw tightened. "The rules aren’t complicated. You don’t interfere with her. You don’t ask questions. You don’t cross lines you can’t uncross."
Tommy shook his head, frustration etched into every line of his face. "That’s not an explanation. That’s a warning. And I’m tired of warnings. I need answers."
Evelyn stepped forward, her movements deliberate. "Then let me give you one. The gate doesn’t just keep us out. It verifies. It reads intentions. If you approach it with the wrong mindset, it won’t just reject you. It’ll destroy you."
Tommy’s eyes widened, but Dario cut in before he could respond. "And you thought telling him this was a good idea?"
"He deserves to know," Evelyn said, her voice steady. "You can’t keep him in the dark forever. Not if you want him to survive."
Dario’s gaze snapped to Tommy, who looked newly shaken but resolute. "You think you’re ready for this? You think you understand what you’re dealing with?"
"I’m trying to," Tommy said, his voice quieter now. "But you’re not making it easy."
Dario exhaled sharply, his mind racing. Tommy’s misstep wasn’t just reckless—it was a direct challenge to the order Dario had spent years maintaining. And Evelyn’s interference only complicated things further.
"Fine," Dario said finally. "You want to understand? Then listen carefully. The gate isn’t just a barrier. It’s a test. And if you fail, there’s no coming back. Not for you, not for anyone. You think you’re ready to face that?"
Tommy hesitated, but only for a moment. "I have to be. I can’t keep operating blind."
Evelyn nodded, her expression softening. "Then let’s start with the basics. The gate responds to intent. If you approach it with fear or doubt, it’ll tear you apart. But if you’re clear, if you’re certain, it’ll let you through."
Dario’s eyes narrowed. "And what’s your stake in this? Why are you suddenly so invested in helping him?"
Evelyn met his gaze, unflinching. "Because he’s not the only one who’s tired of secrets. And because I know what happens when people are left in the dark. It never ends well."
Dario studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. Then he turned back to Tommy. "You’re playing with fire. But if you’re determined to do this, then you need to be smart. No more reckless moves. No more going off-script. Understood?"
Tommy nodded, his resolve hardening. "Understood."
"Good," Dario said, though the unease in his chest didn’t dissipate. "Because if you screw this up, it’s not merely your life on the line. It’s all of ours."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, the stakes clearer than ever. Tommy’s desire for understanding had forced Dario’s hand, and now they were all navigating uncharted territory. The rules of their world had shifted, and there was no going back.
Ezra Ward leaned against the edge of Dario’s desk, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the polished wood.
The room smelled faintly of cigar smoke and old leather, the kind of scent that clung to power.
Dario sat behind the desk, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his eyes were sharp, tracking Ezra’s every move.
“Tommy’s gone,” Ezra said, cutting straight to the point. His voice was steady, but there was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed his concern. “He didn’t show for his shift, didn’t answer his phone. I checked his place—nothing. It’s like he vanished.”
Dario’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers paused mid-air as he reached for the cigar cutter on his desk. “When was he last seen?”
“Yesterday evening,” Ezra replied. “He was supposed to meet Maya Torres at the docks. She said he never showed. She waited an hour, then left. Thought maybe he got held up with something else, but now…”
Dario leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. “Tommy doesn’t miss shifts. Not without telling someone.” He tapped the cigar cutter against the desk once, twice, then set it down with deliberate precision. “Did he say anything to you? Anything unusual?”
Ezra shook his head. “No. He’s been… focused. Maybe too focused. You know how he gets when he’s trying to prove something.” He hesitated, then added, “He’s been asking questions, Dario. About things he shouldn’t be.”
Dario’s gaze sharpened. “What kind of questions?”
“About the Moretti ledger.” Ezra’s voice dropped, as if the weight of the words made them harder to say. “About Evelyn Crane. He wanted to know why she’s still breathing.”
Dario’s expression remained neutral, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of the desk. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him to stay in his lane,” Ezra said, his tone firm. “But you know Tommy. Once he gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let go. I thought he’d drop it, but…”
“But now he’s gone,” Dario finished. He stood, smoothing the front of his suit jacket with a practiced ease. “You think Evelyn’s involved?”
Ezra hesitated. “I don’t know. But she’s got a way of making problems disappear. And Tommy’s been asking questions that could make him a problem.”